


No Starting Over

by centreoftheselights



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (not necessarily in that order), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Antagonistic Deceit Sanders, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Arguing, Autistic Logic | Logan Sanders, Bad Decisions, Christmas Music, Christmas Party, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Halloween, Hand Jobs, Heartbreak, Human Sides (Sanders Sides), Insomnia, Jealousy, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Low Self-Esteem, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Oxford, Panic Attacks, Relationship Negotiation, Rivalry, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Stress, Texting, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, ace!Patton, but it'll get there eventually, forced to work together, less 'slow burn' more 'youre striking the match but it keeps sparking and then failing to catch', mention of cheating, negative self-talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-07-17 12:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16095770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights
Summary: Roman encounters an obnoxious emo who argues with him in class. Patton meets a shy, nervous guy in a hoodie outside the Counselling Office. Logan gets drunk at a party and makes out with a stranger in dark lipstick. None of the three friends realise that they're all talking about the same guy.Virgil is having a very strange start to the school year. But there's no starting over...





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will feature: secrets, lies, tragic backstories, and bad decisions... but eventually, a happily ever after.
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) and welcomes comments from readers - for more information see the end-of-fic notes!
> 
> For content warnings, please see the end-of-chapter notes.

**Monday 1st Week, 11am**

Roman grabbed the handle of the classroom and gave it a hefty shove, only stumbling a little when the door completely failed to open.

Someone behind him snorted.

“It's locked, genius.”

Roman span around to see a young man lounging on the staircase opposite. He wore a dark hoodie, a lot of messily-applied eyeshadow, and a large pair of headphones. He looked up at Roman through long brown bangs, one eyebrow raised.

“I'm sorry.” Roman blinked. “I don't believe we've met.”

Roman had thought that he knew everyone in his year on the English course, but while the stranger looked the right age, he certainly hadn't been in last year's lectures. So why would he be waiting outside a second-year seminar on the first day of term?

“Nah, we haven't. I'm pretty sure I would remember all… this.”

The stranger waved a hand at him with a scowl, and in spite of himself, Roman glanced down at his outfit. His favourite white and gold jacket, red T-shirt, clean high-tops – he knew he looked fantastic. He always looked fantastic.

He must have misunderstood.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” Roman said. “My name is Roman Prince.”

“And I'm…” The man hesitated for a moment, then smirked. “… not here to make friends.”

He put his headphones back over his ears.

“Pleasure to meet you too, Emo Nightmare.”

The Emo Nightmare in question pulled out his phone; he showed no sign of having heard Roman. Roman glared at him, infuriated, but to no avail. After a few seconds, he folded his arms and leant against the door, waiting in silence for the professor to arrive with the room key.

Not the start he had hoped for, for the first class of the year.

 

**Monday 1st Week, 8am (Three Hours Earlier)**

Patton hadn't expected to see anyone in the Counselling Office waiting room so early in the morning, but someone was here before him. A pale-skinned boy in a black hoodie that was a couple of sizes too big sat in the corner of the room. When Patton entered, the stranger curled up tighter into his jacket and his foot began bouncing on the floor.

Patton sat three seats down from him, and waited for the kid to glance at him before smiling.

“Hey there, friend. You look like you could use someone to talk to.”

“We're not friends.” The boy's words might have been rude, but his leg stopped tapping for a moment.

“Well, you know what they say,” Patton continued. “A stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet – and we've just met!”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“You look like you could use someone to talk to -”

“I was kinda hoping for a professional -”

“So I'm just gonna keep on chatting unless you tell me to stop, okay?”

The kid didn't answer for several long seconds, but his shoulders had relaxed a little. He turned his head, and for the first time Patton got a good look at his face. His eyes were rubbed red, with deep purple rings underneath.

“How you doing, kiddo?”

The stranger blinked at him. “You… do know where we are, right?”

“Counselling doesn't have to just be for a crisis!” Patton insisted, but he could feel the stranger closing up. “But you look like you've had a rough night.”

The boy shrugged.

“I didn't exactly get a full night's sleep.”

“Ooh, I've been there!”

The stranger gave him a doubtful look, but Patton ignored it.

“But we're both here now, bright and early! Say, have you heard that story about the alarm clock?”

“… No?”

“Well, you didn't miss much. It was a real _snooze_.”

The boy blinked at Patton for a moment, and then ducked his head, hiding a grin. For a second, Patton's chest was full of warmth.

Then Dr Picani stuck his head around the door, and Patton remembered why he was here.

“Patton? Come on through to the office.”

The stranger hunched back over again, pulling his hood lower over his head.

“It was nice meeting you, kiddo,” Patton said as he got to his feet.

It was only as he was leaving the room that he very softly heard a muttered reply:

“See you around, I guess.”

 

**Monday 1st Week, 1am (Seven Hours Earlier)**

_This is a bad idea._

That idea should probably have occurred to Logan earlier. His head was spinning, which wasn't surprising given the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. This sort of behaviour wasn't like him at all -

But then the stranger with the burgundy lipstick and the lip ring pushed him back against the wall, and all thoughts of protest flew out of his head.

Their lips met, and all Logan could think about was the warm body under his hands and the line of metal pressed against his tongue and the heat burning in his stomach.

“Please – I want to -”

The stranger spoke in a low gravelly voice, his words almost incoherent against Logan's lips. Logan surged forward and kisses him again, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Fuck…”

The stranger kissed along Logan's jaw and down his neck, rough and urgent and every touch setting Logan on fire.

“Can I – is this okay?”

As answer, Logan buried a hand in his hair and pulled him closer. He got the message, and began eagerly sucking a bruise against Logan's collarbone.

Logan tipped his head back against the wall and moaned, his legs going weak underneath him. Sensation burned bright in his mind, and someone was whispering things, filthy things that were only fanning the flames -

“You have a dirty mouth, you know that?” The stranger smirked up at him. “But if you want me to do half those things, we're going to need to find somewhere more private.”

They were in a dark hallway in someone else's house, the sounds of a party going loudly in the next room.

“How far away do you live?” Logan asked.

The stranger tilted his head to one side, then smiled slowly.

“Not far. Not far at all.” He kissed Logan again. “You ready to go?”

“I – I have a jacket...”

The stranger nodded. “I'll meet you outside?”

“Definitely,” Logan said, a little breathless.

The stranger reached up, and brushed a hand over the bruise on Logan's neck, making it ache beautifully.

“Don't keep me waiting.”

The stranger turned and walked towards the door, and after a few moments of deep appreciation for the invention of skinny jeans, Logan remembered his objective. His jacket.

He hurried through to the makeshift cloakroom, finding a completely disorganised heap of clothing piled haphazardly about the room. Digging down, he managed to retrieve his coat in a fairly speedy fashion, and hurried outside.

The rush of cold air as he opened the door made Logan realise how warm his face was. Looking up and down the street, he saw a figure waiting at the streetlight. But as he approached, he realised that it wasn't the stranger he was looking for. He turned back, confused, but there was no-one else in sight.

“Meeting someone?” The stranger asked. “I think he took off.”

Logan ignored him, shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets as he paced up and down the street. The stranger he had been kissing must have doubled back, perhaps gone to visit the bathroom -

Five minutes passed, then fifteen. The cold air began to eat into Logan's warm skin, and a cold sinking feeling grew inside of him as well.

As two am rapidly approached, Logan swore, and stormed off in the direction of home.

 

**Monday 1st Week, 7pm (Eighteen Hours Later)**

Virgil walked up the staircase and into his room. As soon as the door swung shut behind him, he collapsed against it, too exhausted to stand.

It had been a very long, very strange day.

… and one hell of a way to start the year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: physical symptoms of anxiety, drunkenness, bad consent decisions (making out with a stranger while drunk), rejection.
> 
> This first chapter is kind of a "pilot episode" for this fic; please let me know what you think, and it might help encourage me to keep writing more!


	2. Mandatory Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More events from a very, very long first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the huge positive response to the first chapter! It was lovely to receive so many nice comments. From now on I will try and post every two weeks or so but it might be up to a month between updates if real life gets in the way.
> 
> By the way, this fic is set at Oxford University, England because... well, it's where I went. For those who aren't familiar with Oxford lingo, a "college" is kind of like your Hogwarts House minus the personality side of things - each college has its own offices, dorms, cafeteria, and staff who oversee student welfare and discipline, but the classes you take are mostly at the bigger university with students from other colleges.
> 
> Content Warnings in the end notes!

**Monday 1st Week, 10am (Earlier That Day)**

“Come in!”

The door to Roman's room swung open to reveal Logan, who was looking… less than fabulous. Even paler than usual, shaking slightly, and most unusually, still in his robe long past the start of morning lectures.

“Having a good morning, Sleeping Not-So-Beautiful?”

Logan blinked at him, unimpressed.

“Foundation,” he said, in a hoarse voice. “Concealer – can I borrow some?”

“Yes, of course, but…” Roman frowned. “We aren't exactly the same shade.”

This was an understatement. Logan's complexion had that pale glow that could only be achieved by spending hours in front of a computer screen, while Roman was a proud mixed-race man with deep mid-brown skin.

“Padre probably has a better match…” Roman said, only somewhat pointedly.

Logan sighed. “He's out. And I… don't think he'd appreciate me in his room right now.”

“You two going to be okay for dinner tonight? I've got auditions until late.”

Logan sighed. “I plan to apologise. Last night I was…”

“An ass?”

Logan glowered at him. “I was going to say unreasonable.”

Roman grinned as he turned to rummage through his dressing table.

“I might have something here… help me look?”

Logan joined him, rifling through some of the many drawers that held Roman's make-up collection.

“Say, why do you need -”

Roman turned to Logan, and through the top of his robe, caught a glimpse of a huge purple-brown bruise on his friend's neck.

“Holy shit, were you attacked by a vampire?” Then a second, even more improbable thought occurred - “Did you _hook up_ with someone?”

Logan's whole face flushed bright red. “Is that so improbable?”

“You _did_!” Roman was half-delighted for his friend, and half concerned. “That isn't… are you okay? Was _it_ okay?”

“I had been drinking heavily.” Roman's concern must have showed on his face, because Logan instantly put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Not that I was taken advantage of – my partner had also been drinking, and we didn't do anything more than kissing and, um, light biting.”

It was strange, watching the unflappable Logan Edison stumble over his words. But in spite of his blush, he was smiling, so Roman supposed that he wouldn't have to vow lifelong enmity on anyone today.

“Well, I think this should help.” He handed Logan a compact. “From when I was the ghost in two-man Hamlet. It's probably still a bit dark for you, but it's heavy duty. Although – you don't have to cover up if you don't want to.”

Logan rubbed his temples with one hand.

“I have already missed two lectures today because I was dehydrated, nauseous and dizzy -”

“- the usual word is 'hungover' -”

“- I cannot arrive to class with a – a _hickey_ on my neck and retain my reputation.”

Roman smiled. “Well, hopefully your alpha nerd status can still be saved.”

“And besides -” Logan's face turned suddenly serious. “Roman, please… I would prefer if you didn't inform Patton of this conversation.”

Roman's eyes went wide for a moment, but after his hesitation, he mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.

“Your secret is safe with me, Specs.”

 

**_Flashback: Monday 1st Week, 12am (Ten Hours Earlier)_**

“Three, two, one, drink!”

At Remy's signal, the two lines of people erupted into cheers in favour of their team. Logan clapped along, although he was feeling dizzy and couldn't quite remember why he was here. Remy had insisted he come defend the honour of the sciences versus the humanities – or was this first years versus higher years?

Logan looked down at the beer bottle in his hand. How much had he drunk this evening? The pub crawl had five stops, although he'd chosen non-alcoholic drinks at two, but then done shots at the last, and several more beers since they reached the after-party. Enough that his mind was noticeably hazy, but not enough yet to forget…

“Go, go, go!”

Logan was started out of his thoughts as the person ahead of him in line slammed their bottle on the table, starting his turn. He raised the beer to his lips and began gulping it down as quickly as he could -

“Logan! Logan! Logan!”

Those around him in line were chanting his name. His throat hurt, and he was getting light-headed from lack of breath, but this was exhilarating in a way he'd never expected. As he swallowed the last mouthful, he slammed the bottle down on the table.

“Yeah!” he shouted, and the rest of his team cheered with him, as the next person in line began eagerly guzzling. For a few minutes, Logan allowed himself to be swept up in the heat and the noise and the emotion of it all, cheering on his team until -

“Team Skirts wins!” Remy announced as the last person in the line opposite slammed their drink down. The group began exchanging high-fives and hugs.

The LGBTQSoc Social Secretary shrugged apologetically at Logan's team. “Better luck next time, Trousers. Now, who's up for Truth or Dare?”

Logan wandered away from the group, back towards the drinks table. Hydrating with non-alcoholic drinks would help reduce his symptoms in the morning… but alcohol would get him drunker.

“Hey, pass the vodka?”

Logan turned, and suddenly his heart was pounding in his chest. An incredibly beautiful person – black skinny jeans, tight-fitting band shirt, heavy eyeliner, a lip-ring and lipstick so red it almost looked black – was standing right beside him.

Logan blinked.

“Did you know you're incredibly attractive?”

The person scowled. “I didn't ask for attitude. I just want to top up my drink, then I'll get out of your hair.”

“No! I… are you a guy?”

The stranger looked doubtful. “… yeah?”

“Great,” Logan nodded eagerly. “I am very gay.”

The man ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it beautifully. “Yeah, I think that's kind of the point of an LGBT social.”

“Sorry, I'm not -” Logan pushed his glasses up. “I'm just not very good at small talk, and I'm finding your appearance unusually distracting.”

“Wait. Are you serious?” The stranger asked.

“Could we go somewhere… more private?” Logan asked. “Together?”

The stranger grinned, his teeth bright against his dark lips.

“Fuck yeah.”

 

**Monday 1st Week, 5pm (Later That Afternoon)**

Virgil eyed himself critically in the bathroom mirror. Did he look okay? More importantly, did he look like he hadn't just spent half an hour hyper-ventilating in a toilet stall because of this meeting? He ran a hand through his hair nervously, then frantically tried to smooth it down flat again. Should he take off his make-up? But then, he'd probably look worse without it…

He checked his phone, and swore. The meeting was in two minutes. He walked quickly up the stairs, hurrying while trying to look like he wasn't in a rush. The office in question was just across the quad, and he hesitated awkwardly outside the heavy wooden door. Was it rude to knock? What if he was early? What if the meeting before was overrunning? What if -?

“Ah, Virgil. It's a pleasure to meet you. Come on in.”

Before Virgil could work himself up too much, the chaplain opened the door, greeting him with a smile. He offered Virgil a hand, which Virgil shook, hoping that the tremor of his nerves wasn't too noticeable.

“How's your day been so far?”

Virgil shrugged. “Fine.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Seminar. Couple of lectures.”

Virgil could hear the curtness in his own words, and knew it wasn't good, so he added: “Went out last night. To a Society thing.”

“Excellent, excellent.” The professor beamed broadly.

Virgil tried to keep his eyes from sliding to the shelf of leather-bound bibles behind him. Religion wasn't exactly his favourite topic, but he probably shouldn't say as much in front of the college chaplain.

“Well, I won't keep you long,” the man continued. “I just wanted to introduce myself, since you're new to the college this year. It's important that you develop a good support network here, and since I'm the Head of Welfare, I want to make sure you know what resources are available to you.”

Virgil could feel his cheeks flushing bright scarlet. He could hear the unspoken words: _since you're such a fuck-up, I want to see what I'm going to have to deal with._

“Obviously, the university has a Counselling Office, which I hope you use if you need to -”

Virgil bobbed his head in acknowledgement, as though he hadn't spent fifty minutes this morning waiting for a drop-in session only to freak out and run when the counsellor had asked him why he was there.

“- and obviously, it's completely confidential. Alternatively, if you need someone to talk to at nighttime -”

 _Do I look like someone who doesn't already know about Nightline?_ Virgil bit his tongue to keep from spitting venom. He didn't need any of this, he'd heard it all before, had access to it all last time and he'd still _screwed it all up_ -

A knock on the door made Virgil jump almost out of his seat.

“Ah, right on cue!” The chaplain got up to open the door. “Thomas! Late again, I see.”

“What can I say, Prof, I like to keep myself busy.” A smiling man in a Steven Universe shirt walked into the room. “Hey! Nice to meet you. I'm Thomas.”

Virgil nodded at him from across the room, and thankfully Thomas didn't try to approach any further.

“I wanted to introduce the two of you. Virgil, Thomas is one of the college's Student Welfare Officers -”

“- and also the LGBTQ Rep!” Thomas interjected. Virgil was so embarrassed he wished he could teleport to literally anywhere else – was his sexuality _that_ obvious just looking at him?

“Virgil has just transferred to the college, so I've been telling him about all our Welfare resources. I think we're all done here though, so why don't you two go get acquainted?”

_This whole thing was just so they could officially assign me a single mandatory friend. I am so pathetic._

“Sure,” Virgil said out loud, following Thomas back out into the quad.

“So, it's nearly dinner time. You want to head to hall together and I can introduce you to some people?”

Virgil had nightmares sometimes where he had to sit in the middle of a huge room full of strangers who were pretending to be too polite while they whispered behind his back.

“Eh, no. I've got food at home I should eat.” A lie, but Thomas didn't need to know that.

“Oh. You're not rooming at college?”

Virgil shrugged. “Late transfer. I'm staying in the college annexe.”

“Well, we can chat for a few minutes if -”

Virgil held up a hand.

“Thanks and all, but you really don't have to worry about me. I'm gonna head home and get some grub.”

“If you're sure…” Thomas frowned. “It was nice meeting you Virgil.”

“Uh, yeah. Likewise.”

Virgil left, keeping his pace carefully slow until he was out of the college gates. His heart was pounding in his chest.

 _Way to be an asshole_ , he thought to himself. But it was too late to fix things now.

It was time to begin the long walk home alone, his stomach rumbling the whole way.

 

**Monday 1st Week, 7pm (Two Hours Later)**

Patton stood at the stove, humming to himself as he watched the steam spiralling up from the simmering pots in front of him. The sound of a key in the door brought a smile to his face.

“Heya! Dinner's almost ready!”

Patton could tell it was Logan before he entered the room, from the sound of him slipping his shoes off, putting his bag next to the stairs and his keys on their hook. Then he walked into the kitchen and -

“Good evening.”

Patton turned around with a smile. “Good evening! I'm making chilli – you think you could lay the table for me?”

“Roman is going to be late home,” Logan said. “He has auditions at college this evening.”

“No problem, I'll leave his portion on the stove for when he gets in.” Patton lifted the lid, checking that the rice was done. “He'd better remember to say hi to Thomas for me!”

Patton was already half-expecting Logan's response, that they had seen Thomas on Saturday and there was no need to ask Roman to convey a message, but instead Logan was silent for several seconds.

“… I'm sure he will.”

Patton tried not to let the sinking feeling in his stomach show on his face as he carried the chilli over to the table.

“Are you -?”

“Patton, I -”

Logan cleared his throat. “Please, can I speak first?”

Patton swallowed, hard. “Of course you can, buddy.”

“I want to apologise most sincerely for my behaviour last night. I acted unreasonably – worse, _irrationally_ – and I spoke harshly to you, in a way that was completely unwarranted by the situation. I let my emotions get the better of me, which is an explanation, but not an excuse. I regret my actions deeply, and I intend to make amends to you through whatever means you prefer.”

Logan finished his speech, a little out of breath. Patton bit his lip.

“Easy there Logan, you don't have to be so hard on yourself. We _both_ had an argument. It takes two to tango, after all!”

Logan frowned. “I approached you with hostility, and you reacted accordingly. I feel it is appropriate that I take full blame.”

“Well, I can't say I agree.” Patton spooned another dollop of chilli onto his plate. “Why don't we just agree that we're both sorry we fought, and let bygones be bygones.”

Logan tilted his head to the side. “My offer to make amends -”

Patton almost reached out to touch Logan's hand, but at the last second he thought better of it.

“Lo, you're one of my best friends. I don't need anything else from you, okay?”

Logan smiled. “Okay.”

“Now, why don't we stop nattering and eat before this chilli gets _chilly_?”

Patton laughed at his own joke, and Logan groaned, and things felt almost back to normal.

Normal, except for the cold, dark feeling of emptiness where Patton's heart should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Drinking irresponsibly, anxiety and self-deprecation, mention of food.
> 
> Let's keep the comment conversation going! I'm fairly new to this fandom, so your optional question for the comments is: what's one under-appreciated fic you'd recommend me reading?


	3. In A Flap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil has a stressful afternoon.
> 
> Content Warnings in the end notes.

**Thursday, 1st Week, 3pm (Three Days Later)**

Roman had been looking forward to this class the whole summer. The History of Folklore was a fascinating topic, but more importantly, Professor Wilder was an expert in the field and an incredible writer to boot. This was a chance to impress her, talk to her seriously about his thoughts – perhaps even convince her to supervise his final project next year!

And none of that would be dampened by the presence of a certain Gloomy Guts, lurking in the corner of the office, in the seat furthest from the door. Roman still had no idea who he was or where he had come from, since in their last seminar together the guy had barely strung two words together. Roman didn't know why he even bothered showing up to class if he wasn't going to contribute to the discussion – it seemed like the man had barely even paid attention!

Well. Roman had a feeling Professor Wilder wasn't going to stand for that in her tutorials.

“Alright!” Professor Wilder said as the last couple of students sat down and began getting out their notebooks. “I assume the six of you already know each other, and we're not here to socialise, so let's get straight to the essays. How do we define a 'fairy tale'? Mx Stokes, why don't you begin?”

The tutorial was fast-paced, with a lot of back and forth discussion. Roman quickly gave up on the idea of making notes, only having time to scrawl down the names of books and authors that Professor Wilder suggested. He vowed to himself that he'd write proper notes after the class, before he could forget all the interesting ideas they had covered.

The emo in the corner stayed quiet. While the other five students discussed their ideas animatedly, he simply watched the discussion without speaking. He didn't even have a notebook in front of him, only a copy of his essay that he was clutching tightly.

“An interesting observation, Mr Prince,” said Professor Wilder, and Roman preened a little. “But there is an obvious counter-argument – Mr Ansell, I believe you took that route in your essay?”

The emo – Ansell, more like _Angst_ -ell, Roman thought – started a little when Professor Wilder called on him.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” he said. “Well, I kinda felt like making any kind of moral argument was pretty, you know, ahistorical? So I took the definition given by Davidson & Chaudri, that the defining feature is the inclusion of a transformative element – you know, the horrific or the monstrous disrupting everyday life…”

“Surely you don't mean to imply that every fairy tale is a horror story?” Roman argued back immediately. “There are dozens of counter-examples – even in something like Cinderella, magic is a force for good.”

“Is it?” Ansell snapped. “The fairy godmother is a force for change, but she's upsetting the social order of the time. Besides, the step-mother or sisters or whoever are a pretty obvious monstrous element if you ask me. Magic is just the method of fixing what was once put wrong. If you look at anything like – like Snow White, or Beauty and the Beast, it's all about creating chaos, changing who has the power in society, putting the 'rightful' royals back on their throne -”

“And that isn't a 'moral argument'?” Roman asked, pointedly.

“Not unless the moral is 'know your place'.” Ansell sneered.

“The phrase 'happily ever after' -”

“Oh, that's entirely anachronistic -”

“- is almost synonymous with the term fairy tale _for a reason_ ,” Roman finished through gritted teeth. “Plenty of folklore includes strange or horrific things, but only fairy tales end with _moral balance restored_ -”

Ansell glared at him with gritted teeth. “Yeah, if you get your definition from the Disney Corporation.”

Anger flared in Roman's stomach, but as he opened his mouth to respond, he heard a loud cough.

“Gentlemen,” Professor Wilder said. “Let's keep things civil, shall we?”

Roman bit back whatever he had been about to say, and took a deep breath. But Ansell… Ansell didn't look particularly civil, or calm. He was practically shaking in his chair, his hands gripping his essay so tight it looked as though he might tear it.

“Mr Ansell?” Professor Wilder prompted.

He leapt out of his chair as if he'd been electrocuted.

“I have to go,” he said quickly. He grabbed his bag and shoved his way out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Professor Wilder frowned. “Well then. Let's continue our discussion…”

Roman hid a smirk behind his hand. He might have gotten a little carried away, but at least he knew how to behave like an adult.

Angst-ell indeed.

 

Patton emerged from the library, rubbing his eyes at the bright light after several hours staring at textbooks. The sun was beginning to creep towards the horizon, and the library cast a long shadow across the wide street ahead of him. It felt like a shame to waste the last hour or two of sunlight on a bus to the house out in the suburbs, so instead he decided to walk over to his favourite cafe in this part of town and grab a bite to eat.

He had just turned into the square when a figure hurried past him. A tall, skinny figure in a thick black hoodie, walking fast. Patton watched after him for a moment, memory half-stirring, when the man – who had been heading west – suddenly stopped, ran a hand through his hair, and turned the opposite direction, back across the square.

Turned the opposite direction, away from the Counselling Office one street over.

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton broke into a half-jog, and his words startled the guy into turning around. It was the same kid he'd met at the start of the week, looking even worse than he had the last time. He barely even glanced at Patton, his eyes unfocused and his posture defensive.

“Look, man, this isn't a good time -”

He'd already turned to start walking again, and Patton wondered where he was going. If he even had a plan.

“Are you okay?” Patton asked. “'Cause I was about to get a sandwich, and you look like you could use something to drink.”

The stranger blinked, and this time, he actually looked at Patton properly.

“It's you,” he said flatly.

“Sure is!” Patton smiled at him. “Now, do you have somewhere you gotta be, or do you want to come have coffee with me?”

The kid looked lost. Not just surprised by the offer, but like he had never heard of such a thing before.

“Come on.” Patton took a few steps toward the cafe, then looked back at him. Almost on auto-pilot, the guy fell into step behind him, hesitantly following him into the cafe.

“You want tea or coffee?” Patton asked as they walked through the door.

“I – no, you don't have to -”

“It's no problem, I have a stamp card!” Patton waved a completed loyalty card at him, entitling him to one buy-one-get-one-free hot drink.

“Oh. Uh, coffee, I guess. Black.”

“You wanna grab us a table round back?”

The cafe was nearly empty. It was too late for the lunch rush, and the after-work crowd wouldn't be there for another hour. But if you sat at a table around the back then no-one could see you crying except the barista, and this kid looked like he might just burst into tears.

Instead, the stranger hesitated and then groaned.

“I don't – why – I don't even know your name.”

“It's Patton!” Patton grinned. “You can call me Pat if you like.”

The guy mumbled something, his head shrinking into his hoodie. At just the wrong moment, the coffee machine behind the counter whirred noisily into life.

“… Gil?” Patton repeated, not sure he'd heard right.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Well, then I am _Gil_ -lighted to meet you!”

Gil didn't exactly smile, but he looked less pained for a second. Patton decided to count that as a win.

“…just so long as we aren't going to do all that subject-college-A levels introduction bullshit.”

“My lips are sealed!” Patton promised. “We're just two guys in a cafe, having a conversation. So… anything you want to talk about?”

Gil glowered at him. “ _Really_ no.”

“Hmm…” Patton thought for a moment. “Do you think dogs ever find _us_ cute?”

“… Are you serious?”

“I just want them to love me as much as I love them!”

“I don't think that's how it works, man.”

“Okay, fine. What about cats?”

 

Virgil was having a weird afternoon.

When he left the tutorial, he hadn't really had a clear plan. He'd been busy focussing on the long-term: the fact that he was going to get in huge trouble for this, get kicked out of university, wind up unemployed and homeless and die alone. He could feel the tightness rising in his chest, his thoughts spiralling in on themselves, and even though he knew what came next he didn't have a damn clue how to stop it.

They didn't exactly hand out a map in orientation week of 'places to go when you're about to have a panic attack'. He had started walking without a plan, and gravitated towards the Counselling Office before realising what a bad idea that was. They weren't really a drop-in service; he had an appointment in two weeks, and the receptionist would probably be pissed off if Virgil showed up when he wasn't meant to.

He had just been wondering if he could walk all the way back to his room without freaking out in the middle of the street when some short blonde guy had come up to him out of nowhere, brought him a coffee, and confused him straight out of his panic spiral.

Virgil would have thought that the last hour or so was a dream, if he ever had dreams this mundane and non-threatening. He'd spent the last hour sat across from Patton's round cheeks and infectious smile, slowly being drawn into conversation on a range of topics from favourite childhood books – “and he's meant to be a witch's cat, but he just wants to be normal and have a home” – to the possibility of life on other planets – “wouldn't meeting aliens just be so _n_ _ifty_?” Virgil didn't really know what to contribute most of the time, but Patton was more than capable of keeping a conversation going all by himself.

As the cafe began to fill up with the evening rush, Patton suggested they sit outside and watch the sunset. He brought the crusts of his sandwich, carefully removed before consumption, and beamed as he was approached by a small mob of hungry pigeons.

“You know you're not meant to feed them, right?” Virgil asked. “You're just gonna teach them to mob tourists.”

“They would never!” Patton insisted. “Look at these little guys! They're starving!”

Virgil eyed the pigeon at the front of the group. It was a solid sphere of malice and feathers, tipped with a sharp beak and cold, staring black eyes. It looked like it had killed before and would kill again.

“Here you go little fella!”

Patton tossed a piece of crust at the group, and the fat pigeon leapt on it immediately, consuming it in one gulp. As soon as the bread began flying, the pigeons swarmed at Patton's feet, crawling over each other to get to the food. Virgil took a couple of steps back, watching them warily.

“Hey! Cut that out – no fighting! Come on, give the others a chance, I – ah.”

Patton's voice suddenly fell quiet, and Virgil's attention snapped back to him. The reason for his silence was immediately clear.

“Patton,” Virgil said slowly. “Why are you holding a pigeon?”

“I… don't know?”

“What do you mean _you don't know_?”

“I was trying to stop him stealing all the food!”

The pigeon, barely contained in both of Patton's hands, turned its head to look at Virgil. Its posture conveyed the impression that fingers would be lost if the situation was not remedied soon.

“Put it down,” Virgil said, quickly.

“I…”

“Put it down!” Virgil said louder.

“What if when I put him down he scratches me?”

“You worry about that _now_?”

Virgil ran a hand through his hair, trying to work out what to do. He couldn't panic, because Patton was panicking, skittering back from the mob at his feet as he held the pigeon out at arm's length. Virgil couldn't panic, and he couldn't walk away, and he could only think of one other option, and he couldn't believe he was about to do this.

“Hold very still.”

Virgil grabbed the pigeon. Almost before he had a grip on it, Patton threw up his hands and stepped back. The moment he was clear, Virgil threw the bird away from himself as hard as he could, staggering backwards as he did so.

The fucking pigeon flapped its wings twice and landed on an awning across the stare, eyeing them with a look of pure malice.

“Holy shit.” Virgil nearly doubled over, his heartbeat pounding in his head.

“My hero!”

Patton suddenly launched at him, and Virgil jumped backwards, throwing up his hands. Patton, halfway into hugging him, pulled back immediately.

“Sorry!”

Virgil took a deep breath, and tried to remember how to act like an actual person.

“Don't – uh, we should wash our hands before we touch anything, right?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Patton said, turning back towards the cafe as though Virgil's reaction was anything close to reasonable. “Are you okay? Did it scratch you?”

Virgil held out his hands, which to his surprise, were still completely intact.

“No, I'm fine. Just – please don't ever do that again.”

“I'll try my best!” Patton said. Then, after a moment: “Don't get in a _flap_ about it.”

Patton laughed, and in spite of himself, Virgil let out a chuckle. He was fine, Patton was fine, even the fucking pigeon was fine. Suddenly, everything felt a little bit more bearable.

They took turns crowding into the cafe's tiny bathroom to wash their hands. As soon as Virgil stepped back outside, Patton thrust a phone in his face.

“I need your number!”

“Uhh… why?”

“So we can hang out again?” Patton said, as though it were obvious. “You _saved_ me from the pigeon!”

“I'm honestly not sure how you survived this long to begin with.”

“Sooo… we should hang out again!” Patton repeated. “Same time next week, maybe?”

Virgil's mind flashed back to the tutorial he'd walked out on, and he grimaced.

“Maybe like, half an hour later.”

“Well, give me your number and we'll figure something out.”

Virgil took the phone. Patton had already entered the name – Gil. Virgil bit his lip, and entered his number without comment.

“There we go!”

Virgil's phone buzzed. An unknown number had just texted him a cat-face emoji.

“And I assume that's you,” Virgil said, waving his phone. Patton beamed.

“I gotta head home now, but it was real nice seeing you again kiddo. I'm so glad we're friends now!”

Virgil expected him to leave, but Patton hesitated for a second.

“Would you like a hug goodbye?”

The question took Virgil by surprise.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Patton wrapped his arms around Virgil, tight. Virgil wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, but he held still and felt Patton's warmth pressed against him. It was nice, even if he was probably making it awkward.

“Okay, now I really gotta run. Bye Gil! See you soon!”

And just like that, Patton was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Arguing, academic stress, anxiety, birds.
> 
> Fun fact: the pigeon story is 100% based on a true story. I was not either of the people involved, since I have a phobia of birds, but I watched events unfold with horror.


	4. Family Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton, Roman and Logan spend an evening in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking the chance this chapter to shout out to my friend/beta Katie, who has been supporting me through the weekly crises I have while writing this fic and in all ways encouraging me to continue, despite having absolutely no knowledge of this fandom. Thanks so much, babe! This week she encouraged me to post this chapter even though I was worried that it might be too long, so if you enjoy it you have her to thank. :-)
> 
> Content warnings in the end notes!

**Monday, 3rd Week, 5pm (Two Weeks Later)**

“Kiddo? You still with me?”

“Huh?” Gil blinked, his eyes refocussing on Patton once more. “Sorry, Pat. I've just had a long day.”

“And here I thought the days were getting shorter!”

Gil groaned at Patton's joke, but his expression was still faintly pained.

“What were you saying?” he asked, with a look of guilt on his face that had no need to be there.

“Nothing important,” Patton insisted. He couldn't even remember now what he'd been chattering on about. “What's on your mind, kiddo?”

“Well, right now I'm wondering why you keep calling me kiddo.”

Patton laughed, ducking his head with embarrassment. “I forgot you don't know! It's an old joke from my first year. I took a couple of years out before starting uni, so I'm the oldest student in my year at college.”

“At the grand old age of… what, like twenty-one?”

“I'm twenty-three in December!” Patton corrected. “Anyway, starting from my first week, a lot of people have taken to calling me 'Dad'.”

“Kinky,” Gil said, then blushed at himself, even though Patton was laughing. “No, I get it. You _do_ love dad jokes.”

“And I love taking care of my friends!” Patton leant forwards. “So, are you gonna tell your old pop what's bothering you, kiddo?”

“Ugh.” Gil groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Of course not! We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. But sometimes talking about stuff helps, and I like to think I'm a good listener.” Patton smiled. “Actually, I'm one of the LGBTQSoc Welfare Officers, so you could say I'm an _ace_ listener. Get it, like asexual -?”

“I got it, Pat,” Gil said, with half a smile. “Thanks. I, uh… should probably come along to some more society meetings. I've only ever been to a couple.”

“Well, I'd love to have you there!” Patton beamed. “I'm always at Welfare Brunch on Sunday mornings if you want to come along and meet some people.”

“Mornings are not really my strong suit,” Gil said with a grimace. “But sure, I'll try and check it out sometime.”

He fell silent for a second, and Patton fought the urge to fill the empty space in the conversation. He could almost see Gil debating with himself. Then -

“So there's this guy in my tutorial,” Gil said, “and he's the world's biggest asshole.”

Patton tilted his head. “How do you mean?”

“You know those guys who always have to be right about absolutely everything?” Gil ran a hand through his hair. “And if anyone disagrees with him, gods forbid, then he _has_ to argue them down so that everyone will know he was right, even if he objectively _wasn't_.”

“That sounds like it would be tough to deal with.”

“He acts like the whole world revolves around him. He's always gotta be the centre of attention.” Gil scoffed. “I caught him actually flexing outside class the other day, showing off his muscles to the girls. He's definitely one of those idiots who gets up to go to the gym before class, like he's probably on the godsdamn _rowing_ _team_ or whatever. Which he's probably been doing half his life, because the way he talks there's no way that he didn't go to fucking _Eton_ or some other posh private boarding school that doesn't let you through the door unless you've got a trust fund the size of my student debt.”

This was getting more personal than Patton was strictly happy with, but it was a relief to see Gil opening up. This was the most animated Patton had ever seen him.

“Honestly, this guy is unbearable. He's such an arrogant, loud, preppy -”

 

**Thursday, 3rd Week, 6pm (Three Days Later)**

“- dark, brooding, emo _nightmare_!”

“Can you pass me the cheese sauce, kiddo?”

Roman pouted, and handed Patton the jug. “Patton, are you listening to me?”

“Of course I am!” Patton insisted, his eyes firmly fixed on the dish in front of him. “You were telling me about your tutorial. Do you think that's enough pasta?”

“He's not just in this tutorial, he's in my Monday seminar too, even though I swear I never saw him _once_ last year.” Roman leaned against the kitchen counter-top. “I would have noticed. He's like a thundercloud, darkening every room he enters.”

“Darn,” Patton said. “I think I made too much sauce again.”

Roman sighed dramatically.

“You simply don't understand my pain,” he declared. “The indignities I've suffered! He makes a mockery of my hard work, sitting in silence and glowering. Professor Wilder asked a question today and he actually _grunted_ in response! And on the rare occasion he actually does deign to speak, he simply _has_ to be right about everything. He won't concede a single point in my favour!”

“It sounds like this guy is really getting to you, Ro,” Patton said kindly. “Pass the timer?”

“I absolutely loathe him!” Roman continued. “Skulking around in his hoodie and raccoon eyeshadow – whoa! You okay there, Padre?”

Patton had fumbled the dish, dropping the lasagna heavily onto the oven shelf with a clang.

“Yeah, no damage done!” Patton insisted. “I got distracted for a second and went all butterfingers!”

Roman frowned, but Patton was already walking towards the door.

“Lo!” he shouted up the stairs. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes!”

Roman heard familiar footsteps moving around upstairs.

“Thank you, Patton. I'll be in the shower until then.”

Patton opened his mouth to reply, but Logan's words were swiftly followed by the sound of the bathroom door locking. A few seconds later, the water started running.

Patton turned back to Roman, frowning. The expression of worry looked out of place on his normally cheerful face.

“Something on your mind?” Roman prompted.

“Has he… said anything to you?” Patton asked, so quietly that Roman could hardly hear him. “About, you know, the start of term?”

Roman felt a rush of protective anger surge inside him. “He apologised, didn't he?”

“Yeah, the day after.” Patton furrowed his forehead. “Did you say something to him?”

“Well, yes.” Roman put up his hands defensively before Patton could reply. “But apologising was his idea! He told me he was sorry the moment I even hinted at the subject!”

“Roman, kiddo, I know you meant well, but that really wasn't your place.”

“I'm your friend! And I'm his friend!” Roman put his hands on his hips. “Friends don't let friends be assholes to each other.”

“He had a reason to react the way he did.”

Remembering that night, Roman very much doubted that. He didn't know exactly what had happened between the two, but it had gone out of control quickly. Roman had volunteered to get the next round of drinks, leaving Patton and Logan chatting quietly in a corner.

When he had returned, no more than ten minutes later, Logan had been angry – absolutely furious, in a way Roman had never seen him before. Not shouting, but a quiet kind of anger, talking fast, lecturing Patton in a low, harsh voice, saying something about _hypocrisy_ and _lying_ and _no right_ and Patton -

Patton had been shaking like a leaf, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

Before Roman had a chance to react, Logan grabbed his drink with a terse “thank you” and stormed off to a different table. Roman had half a mind to chase after him and give Logan a piece of his mind – but Patton had all but collapsed in Roman's arms, sobbing against his shirt for the whole taxi ride back home and then falling into exhausted sleep as soon as they got through the door.

Roman had tried not to hold a grudge against Logan. This was the sort of thing that happened when people were drunk and acting stupid, and his friend had seemed entirely contrite the next morning. But his behaviour was inexcusable in Roman's eyes.

He had no idea what Patton could mean, saying Logan had a reason for it. Sure, Roman could think of a few things that would get him that angry that fast – certain slurs, or ill-mannered comments, or crossings of important boundaries.

But not a single one of them was something Roman could ever imagine Patton doing.

“Padre, Logan may have had an excuse, but I am absolutely certain that your actions did not deserve the response he gave them.”

“That's sweet of you, kiddo,” Patton said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was a silly misunderstanding, that's all. It won't happen again.”

“So what's the issue, Pop?”

“Oh, everything's fine!” Patton insisted. “He just… hasn't been around much the last couple of weeks. I was wondering if it was still on his mind.”

“He hasn't said anything to me,” Roman said. “He's probably stressed about work. You know, the start of term can be a busy time.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's nothing!” Patton smiled, but the look didn't quite reach his eyes. “You know me. I worry about everyone.”

 

Logan read through his code for what felt like the hundredth time. The characters were beginning to blur together in his vision, his program becoming nothing but meaningless squiggles on a screen – and still, he hadn't found the root of the problem. He had checked and triple-checked every line, but his program was still behaving anomalously. There were bugs.

It was the first real assignment of the year. He'd had all week to work on it, but now only one night was left, and he still hadn't solved it. He was supposed to be _good_ at this. What else was he good for?

How was he going to survive another two years of this course if he was already falling behind?

“Lo? Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes!”

Patton's shout startled him, and when Logan checked the clock, he realised he had been at his desk for hours. He was getting nowhere. He needed to do something else, be something else, at least for the next twenty minutes.

Logan slammed his laptop shut, and stood quickly from his chair. Making his way to the landing, he leaned over the bannister rather than shout to be heard downstairs.

“Thank you, Patton. I'll be in the shower until then.”

He didn't wait for a reply. He locked the bathroom door behind him, undressed, folded his clothes neatly in a pile. Took off his glasses, laid them on top. Turned the temperature dial to a scalding heat, and waited while the water ran cold, waited until clouds of steam began to fill the bathroom. Until his reflection in the mirror, already blurred without his corrective lenses, was nothing but a faintly humanoid shape in the fog.

Routine was comforting. He could let his body act, even as his thoughts ground like stuck gears in his mind. Routine was something he could do right.

He stepped into the shower.

The hot water was soothing, easing a tension in his muscles that Logan hadn't noticed was there. He tipped his head back for a minute, let the spray run down his scalp and across his shoulders, stretched out his neck after a long day of hunching over his laptop screen.

But as he began to wash, he could feel the thoughts churning against one another at the edges of his mind. Thoughts like _stupid_ and _worthless_ and _failure_. He wanted to shut them out, but he didn't know how. He'd never developed a habit of singing in the shower, unlike Roman and Patton –

Logan's stomach twisted at the thought of his friend's name, at the memory of a look of hurt on Patton's face. The thoughts began to spin faster, whispering _bad friend_ and _robot_ and _he hates you now_.

 _No_.

Logan needed to shut his thoughts up, and there was one way to make that happen. He reached down to touch himself, running a soap-slick hand along his length, and for a moment, the world fell away.

He stroked slowly a couple of times, running through images in his mind. No more thinking of work. No thinking about fighting with Patton.

_No thinking about thinking about Patton, here in this shower, cock hard in his hand and Patton's name silently on his lips **bad friend bad friend he'd hate you if he knew** –_

He thought about the stranger at the party. Thought about eyeliner and lipstick and black skinny jeans. Thought about hands pushing him against a wall, the taste of metal on his tongue, the mark on his neck still aching softly under the heat of the shower spray.

_He left, you did something wrong –_

In Logan's mind, he didn't leave. They went somewhere together, fell through the door in a tangle of kisses. Those strong, confident hands pushed Logan back onto a bed. Dark eyes looked him over, head to toe. The stranger smiled, licked his lips, then climbed on top of him.

It didn't take long for Logan's fantasies to run together, to become nothing more than a blur of hands and mouths and skin and friction and pressure, _pressure_ , _**pressure**_ _–_

And then, at last, everything went silent.

 

“Thank you, Patton. This meal is delicious.”

“You're welcome, kiddo!”

“Although,” Logan continued, “I can't help but notice that it's Roman's day to cook.”

“I helped!” Roman protested, loudly. “I definitely contributed -”

“The majority of the work?” Logan raised an eyebrow. Roman pouted.

“Fine,” he said. “I guess I'll cook at the weekend instead.”

“There's no need, Ro,” Patton insisted. “I love getting to cook for you two!”

“The chore rota exists to ensure that our domestic workload is equally distributed. I don't want you to become over-burdened -”

“I have an idea!” Roman leapt to his feet and ran across the room to check the chore sheet posted on the fridge. “Pat, you can cook this weekend and I'll clean the bathroom instead. Deal?”

Under the combined gazes of his two housemates, Patton admitted defeat.

“Sounds fair enough to me!”

“Mmm… does anyone mind if I take seconds while I'm up?” Roman didn't wait for a response before shovelling another large helping of lasagna onto his plate.

Logan frowned at Roman. “How are you possibly able to consume this much food without suffering indigestion?”

“Padre's cooking could never give me indigestion!” Roman insisted. He took a bite of lasagna, his words becoming mushy around the mouthful of food. “Besides, I had a long day. There's this guy in my tutorial -”

“No talking with your mouthful!” Patton chided in his best 'dad' voice. Roman pulled a face, but ultimately opted for eating over talking, while Logan mouthed “Thank you.” across the table.

“You know,” Patton said, “eating too much pasta can be bad for your bank account. If you're not careful, you might wind up… _penne_ -less.”

Roman chuckled, but Logan looked unimpressed.

“You have used that pun on me before,” he said. “In first year, when the cafeteria was serving chicken and mushroom penne.”

“Oh no! I did?” Patton put on an exaggerated 'thoughtful' expression. “What a shame. I guess the time for puns has _pasta_ us by.”

“Ooh, back-up pun!” Roman teased. “You should know better, Lo. Patton never lets a pun opportunity slip _pasta_ him.”

“That's the same pun Patton just used!” Logan protested.

“Relax, Logan!” Patton said. “You should really let your _angel hair_ down.”

Logan put his head in his hands.

“I have been betrayed in my own home,” he muttered.

“In your own… _ziti_?”

“I'm leaving,” Logan said. He got to his feet, picking up his and Patton's plates to carry to the sink.

“I'm not done eating!” Roman protested, with his mouth still full.

“You should have thought of that before you betrayed me,” Logan told him. “Also, you're helping clean up, so Patton can sit back down.”

“Do we have anything for pudding?” Patton asked, wandering over to the fridge instead.

“Cookie dough ice cream in the freezer drawer,” Logan answered without turning around. Patton's favourite.

“Aw, thanks Logan!” For a moment, Patton wanted to squeeze his friend from behind in a big hug… but then he thought better of it. He patted Logan on the shoulder a couple of times instead. Logan turned back and smiled at him, and for a second Patton's heart felt calm again.

Then Roman pushed past him to dump his plate in the sink, and the moment was gone.

“So, is anyone thinking what I'm thinking?” Roman asked.

“Unlikely, since there is a near-infinite probability space of possible thoughts -”

“Who's up for family movie night!”

“Roman! I'm surprised at you!” Patton scolded. “It's not family without your brother.”

Last year, Patton and Logan had signed up as 'college parents' to show around two Freshers. However, the other student had chosen to room at college this year instead of joining the three of them in their shared house.

“It's not my fault Thomas isn't here!” Roman protested. “It was his own choice to buddy up with the director of the college play…”

“Yes,” Logan said flatly, “because you and Joan spend so little time together, sharing only the majority of your classes.”

“It's not a family night when someone's missing but… I'm always up for a movie night! What do you say, Logan? We could watch Big Hero 6.”

Logan turned towards Patton, half-smiling, but in the middle of the motion, his face suddenly fell. He straightened his shoulders, becoming stiff and formal again.

“Unfortunately, I am unavailable to participate in such an activity this evening,” he said. “By all means, continue in my absence.”

“Aw, it's not the same without you Lo!” Patton said. “You've been working all day. Are you sure you can't take a break?”

“Roman, do you require my further assistance with the dishes?” Roman shook his head. “Then I must return to my studies. I wish you two a pleasant evening.”

Logan hurried upstairs without a second glance.

“Yeah,” Roman said in a low voice. “Something is _up_ with him.”

Patton busied himself with putting away the ice cream, and didn't respond.

“You still want to watch something?” Roman prompted.

“No, Ro, I'm… not really in the mood. I'm just going to take this to my room.” Patton picked up his bowl of ice cream. “You have a good night now.”

“You too, Padre.”

Patton made his way upstairs, bowl clutched tightly in his hand. He knew eating it wouldn't help.

The sick feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with hunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Mentions of food & eating, arguments, stress, negative self-talk, masturbation.


	5. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go to a Halloween party. Things get a little out of hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the change in rating! We will be getting explicit this chapter. Yes, even more so than last chapter!
> 
> Huge thanks to @CodenameCarrot for the guides for [text message formatting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722) and [emoji on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580324/chapters/15055576) that I used to create the text messages here.
> 
> In terms of Oxford slang, sub fusc is formal academic dress, worn for formal occasions and exams, and looks [like this](https://www.ox.ac.uk/sites/files/oxford/media_wysiwyg/Student%20gowns%20%28960%29.jpg).
> 
> As always, Content Warnings in the end-notes.

**Friday 4th Week, 4pm (One Week Later)**

  **Patton:** check out my costume!!! (Grinning Cat Face With Smiling Eyes)

Virgil smiled as Patton's text flashed up on his phone, giving him something to do other than binging Youtube conspiracy videos. The attached picture showed Pat in a fuzzy cat suit that covered his hands – wait.

  **Virgil:** Is that a onesie? **Patton:** yeah! it's so warm and comfy (Hugging Face)

Virgil shook his head at his phone. Patton was going to completely overheat at the party he was going to unless he was careful.

**Virgil:** I guess it could be worse. When you first said you were dressing as a cat, I pictured Mean Girls.  
  
**Patton:** how do you mean?  
  
**Patton:** i've never seen that movie  
  
**Virgil:** How have you never seen Mean Girls?  
  
**Patton:** i don't like it when people are mean! why would i watch a movie about that?

Virgil groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. He decided he wasn't going to explain that joke to Patton – at least, not over text.

**Patton:** so are you getting ready yet? i can't wait to see your costume! (Smiling Face With Smiling Eyes)  
  
**Virgil:**???  
  
**Virgil:** Why would I need a costume? I'm not going out tonight.  
  
**Patton:** (Worried Face)  
  
**Virgil:** What?  
  
**Patton:** i thought you said halloween was your favourite holiday!  
  
**Virgil:** So I'll stay in and watch Nightmare Before Christmas.  
  
**Virgil:** You know, enjoy myself.  
  
**Patton:** (Confounded Face)(Anguished Face)(Crying Face)

Virgil sighed. Even through the phone, he could feel Patton's puppy dog eyes. And it wasn't like he didn't enjoy Halloween, but the idea of a college party sounded like a recipe for disaster, no matter what the occasion.

**Patton:** what college are you at? i bet i know someone you can go out with!

Virgil briefly wondered if that was possible – there were at least thirty colleges at Oxford, right? But if anyone he knew had that many friends, it was Patton.

**Virgil:** St Thomas's.  
  
**Patton:** (Heavy Exclamation Mark Symbol)(Smiling Cat Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes)(Thumbs Up Sign)(Firework Sparkler)(Grinning Face With Smiling Eyes)(Party Popper)

Virgil blinked at his phone.

**Virgil:** You're going to have to use words for that one, bud.  
  
**Patton:** we're at the same college!!!  
  
**Patton:** how did i not know that?

Virgil bit his lip, and didn't reply.

**Patton:** you have to come to the party with me!  
  
**Patton:** i can introduce you to everyone and you can hang out with me and my friends!

Virgil stared at his phone, his heart pounding in his chest.

**Patton:** i promise we can leave if you're not having fun, but please give it a chance?

Virgil couldn't believe he was going to agree to this.

**Virgil:** OK.  
  
**Virgil:** Starts at 7, right?  
  
**Patton:** yep!!!  
  
**Patton:** oh, but you don't have a costume. (Face With Cold Sweat)  
  
**Patton:** do you need to borrow one? my housemate has lots of spares  
  
**Patton:** you could come over and borrow something!!!  
  
**Virgil:** Nah, I'll figure something out.  
  
**Virgil:** Meet you there.  
  
**Patton:** text me as soon as you get there!  
  
**Patton:** i can't wait!!! (Smiling Face With Open Mouth And Tightly-Closed Eyes)

Virgil put down his phone before he could text Patton and back out. He felt a little nauseous, but he fought the feeling back again.

He was doing this.

Fuck.

 

**Friday 4th Week, 6pm (Two Hours Later)**

Roman was applying the last of his make-up when he heard a knock on the door.

“Come in!” he sing-songed, not bothering to turn away from his reflection.

“Hey, kiddo! You about done?”

Roman turned around with a flourish. He was dressed as a pirate – thigh-high boots, a ruffled white shirt with a red frock coat over it, gold hoops in his ears, a black and gold hat, and some dramatic eyeshadow to match.

“Oooh, you look so cool!” Patton clapped his hands. Roman beamed at him.

“You don't think the earrings are too much?”

“No!” Patton insisted. “You look perfect! I love your make-up!”

Roman grinned. “Good, because it's your turn! At least, I assume that's why you're here.”

“Got it in one. Make me look _purr_ -fect too?”

Roman chuckled.

“Sit on the end of the bed, and hold still for me,” he said as he started rummaging in his drawers for the make-up he'd need.

Almost as soon as the first brush touched Patton's face, he wrinkled his nose.

“That tickles!”

Roman gave him a pointed look, and Patton looked guilty.

“Okay! Holding still.”

It took about fifteen minutes to complete Patton's look for the evening – black nose, a line across his lips, pale whiskers on his rosy cheeks and a touch of cats' eye eyeliner. By the time they were finishing up, Logan was stood in the doorway of Roman's room, waiting for them.

Roman frowned.

“Shouldn't you hurry up and get your costume on, Pocket Protector?”

“I have already changed into my costume.”

Roman looked over him again. Logan was wearing a white button-down shirt, blue tie, dark trousers – nothing that different to his usual outfits.

“I believe this may be the source of your confusion.” Logan gestured to the black fabric he held in his hand, which he promptly put on. It was a black gown, with a blue-lined hood.

“You're a Hogwarts student!” Patton said, excitedly.

“That's not an outfit!” Roman blustered. “You might as well be wearing sub fusc.”

“Exactly. Simple, elegant, practical -” Logan pushed up his glasses - “and since Patton insisted I buy the costume for the Yule Ball last year, it was available to me with minimum effort. Roman, I'm surprised you didn't simply reuse your Disney prince costume from last Halloween -”

Roman spluttered indignantly.

“Reuse a costume? Me? I – How _dare_ you -?”

“Now now, kiddos, let's not fight,” Patton chided. “We've got a party to get to!”

Roman and Logan shared a look.

“Isn't it a little early to be setting out?” Roman asked. “There is such a thing as being fashionably late.”

“While punctuality is important, based on our typical journey times there is a significant probability that if we depart now, we will arrive at college before the bar has opened for the evening.”

“That's exactly what I said!” Roman rolled his eyes.

“I know it's early, but I want to be there as soon as possible!” Patton bit his lip. “I invited a friend of mine, and he's a little anxious. I just want to make sure that he doesn't show up and find I'm not there yet!”

Roman and Logan looked at each other again, and without speaking, both of them knew exactly what was going to happen. There was no way to say no to Patton when he was looking at them like that.

“… Fine.” Logan rubbed his temples with one hand. “Give me ten minutes to gather my belongings.”

“Ooh, are you taking your wand?” Patton asked eagerly.

Logan blinked at him.

“No. The thought had occurred to me, but I know that bops can be chaotic, and I didn't want to risk misplacing it – especially since it was a gift.”

Logan's face had turned faintly pink. The replica Luna Lovegood wand had been a present from Patton last Christmas.

“Aw, that's so sweet!” Patton threw his arms around Logan in a hug, which he awkwardly returned.

After a second, Roman coughed loudly at them.

“Okay, both of you out of my room. I need to do finishing touches!”

He paused and looked around.

“Where did I leave my sword?”

 

As predicted, they arrived at the party so early that they were waiting outside the bar when the doors opened. The college bar had been decorated with miniature pumpkins, paper bats, and plastic spiders that made Patton shriek. They all got a round of some dubiously neon cocktails with uninformative horror-themed names, and claimed a table to themselves. Over the next hour or so, more and more people filtered in, until Roman was surrounded on all sides by friends and acquaintances.

It was fun to relax for a night, to see who could make each other jump and to flirt outrageously with people he knew wouldn't take him seriously. Roman made dramatic declarations of love to Valerie in Spanish, and she reciprocated for a minute before they both dissolved into laughter – only to be one-upped half an hour later by Joan sprawling across Thomas's lap, pretending to be about to kiss him while their datemate Talyn collapsed in a fit of giggles. When the DJ started playing, Patton dragged everyone out onto the dance floor to do the Time Warp and the Monster Mash.

Roman couldn't remember the last night he'd had this much fun.

Of course it had to end.

He was at the bar, getting some more drinks with Patton, when he caught sight of Him across the room. Roman blinked a couple of times, half-convinced he was imagining things – but it was unmistakably Him.

“Roman?”

Patton was looking at him. The bartender wanted to know what he was buying.

“Two Vampire's Kiss jello shots,” Roman said, his voice catching a little in his throat.

Patton frowned.

“Uh, kiddo, I don't want…”

“No fear, Padre. They're both for me.”

As soon as the first shot was on the bar, Roman downed it. It tasted like food colouring and cheap vodka, but the burn of alcohol in his throat was better than the bitterness rising there, watching Him from across the room.

Patton followed Roman's gaze, and gasped.

“What's he doing here? That's not right.”

Roman shrugged. “It's a party. He still has friends at this college, right?”

He hated how his voice sounded, the edge of a whine in his words betraying his inability to be casual about this.

“Do you want to go?”

“This party is big enough for the two of us!” Roman threw back the second shot, but Patton was still watching him with concern. He lowered his voice: “I'm not going to let Him drive me away.”

Patton bit his lip, but he didn't speak.

“Come on,” Roman said quickly. “Let's get back to the dance floor!”

 

Logan needed air. The room was full of people now, with clouds of dry ice hanging in the air and music pounding like a shared heartbeat. He needed to catch his breath.

Stepping outside, the air immediately felt twenty degrees cooler, although Logan could feel himself radiating heat out into the night air. The flashing lights of the dancefloor were gone, replaced with the dim, steady glow of an incandescent lamp, and though his ears were still ringing, the music was fading to a dull throb behind him.

A cluster of people leant beside the back door of the bar, clouded in cigarette smoke or vape trails. Logan gave them a wide berth, and headed in the other direction, perching on a low wall at the outermost radius of the lamplight. He leaned his head back, inhaling deeply as he looked up at the stars.

“Nice costume. I take it you're a Ravenclaw?”

Logan started as he realised he had accidentally sat beside a darkly-clothed figure. He opened his mouth, the words: “Finally, someone who realises I'm not Harry Potter” forming on his lips when he registered the stranger's face.

Pale powdered skin, broad dark circles around his eyes, a broad, macabre line like the mouth of a skull crossing his cheeks – but that wasn't why Logan was staring.

“It's… you.”

The man smiled, and gave him a small salute with two fingers.

“And it's you.”

Logan didn't know how to feel, what to think. His ears were roaring with a rush of blood, his heartbeat leaping into his throat. There was an electric hum of anticipation in the air between them as they stared at each other for a few moments.

Logan didn't believe in fate, or magic. Even the improbable happened by sheer coincidence every now and then. But this felt like a second chance – like a dream brought to life.

“My name is Logan.” Something he should have said last time, but didn't.

“I know.” The man smiled, and a shiver ran down Logan's smile that had nothing to do with the night air. “You can call me V.”

Logan pushed up his glasses, and tried to clear his mind of fantasy images, hands and skin and gasping names -

He failed.

“Have you been drinking, V?” he asked.

V let out a low chuckle. “One beer. I'm not drunk, if that's what you're asking.”

“That's acceptable.” Logan slid closer to him. “I would hate for you to suspect that I sought to take advantage of you.”

He desperately _wanted_ , so much he was shaking with it, but he didn't have the words to ask for it.

Then V smiled.

“And what if I'm planning on taking advantage of you?”

Logan swallowed. “I'm not intoxicated either.”

V leaned forwards, his face only inches from Logan's.

“That wasn't what I meant.”

Logan wasn't sure which of them initiated the kiss, only that their lips were pressed together, and his hand was grabbing at V's jacket, and suddenly there was a whole different kind of heat rising inside him.

Logan had other questions, he knew that. He had so many things he wanted to know… But right now, facts were the furthest thing from his mind.

He buried a hand in V's hair, and kissed him like he was his only source of oxygen.

 

Logan had no idea how long he and V had been kissing, but he was half hard already and he _was going to go insane if he didn't get to touch V soon_ , and when he said as much V had pulled him to his feet, the two of them tripping over each other as they made their way across the paved paths of the quad towards another building -

“The library?”

V broke away to enter the door unlock code.

“It's a Friday night, and there's a party a hundred metres away. No-one is going to be in here… except us.”

The door clicked open, and V tugged Logan after him by the hand. As soon as the door closed behind them, V pressed Logan up against the wall, kissing his neck.

“Private enough for you?”

The lights were off. The building was empty. But anyone could walk in at any time…

“Enough talking,” Logan said in a low voice, grabbing V by the front of his hoodie and pulling him deeper inside.

Logan's back hit a wall. V's hands were on his waist, Logan's were under V's hoodie, sliding across the bare skin of his back, nails scraping bluntly. V tugged on Logan's tie, pulling the taller man down for a messy kiss. V pulled away only far enough to breathe, his lips still brushing against Logan's as he spoke:

“Tell me what you want.”

Possibilities flashed in Logan's mind, too many to choose from. He wanted all of it.

“Touch me,” he gasped. “Please.”

V's hand moved down, hovering over Logan's trousers.

“Is this okay?”

“ _Yes_.”

Logan's answer was more of a moan than a word, but he had no time to feel embarrassed. V's hand was stroking slowly over his crotch, and all thoughts left Logan's head. His hands gripped tight onto V's hips as his knees went weak underneath him, and he let out a low groan of pleasure.

“Fuck,” V said, his voice low. Logan opened his eyes, to see V staring at him, his pupils wide and dark. “That was hot.”

“ _Please_ ,” Logan repeated.

“Okay, no more teasing,” V said. He nipped lightly at Logan's throat. “Well, not much.”

Before Logan could formulate a coherent reply, V was unzipping his trousers, and then there was a hand on his cock, and Logan couldn't think any more. He was half aware of making a noise, of his hips pressing forward, of his head falling against V's shoulder.

With every stroke of V's hand, Logan was falling apart. He didn't understand how this could possibly feel so much more intense than the touch of his own hand but it was, it was a thousand times more. Everything was hot and urgent and sounded like rushing blood and panting breaths.

“V,” Logan gasped. “I – fuck.”

V buried a hand in his hair, tight enough to tug on the roots and that pain felt so good right now. Logan didn't know what to do with his hands, was scrambling for contact, for skin, for a grip to keep him on his feet.

“Fuck, Logan,” V was murmuring. “So hot, come on -”

“I – fuck, V, I think I'm going to -”

V's hand stilled for a moment, and Logan whined. The hand from the back of his neck drew away, and after a second V started pumping his hand again, faster than before.

“Come on, Logan, let me see you.”

“I – _V_!”

Logan's orgasm hit him hard and fast, and V's hand kept moving, until the friction was too much and Logan put a hand on his wrist to still it. Looking down, he realised that V had retrieved a tissue from somewhere, catching most of his cum, and was now dabbing at the few spots that had landed on Logan's trousers.

“That was…” For once, Logan's vocabulary didn't have the words. “ _Fuck_.”

V chuckled, and in spite of his refractory status, Logan felt something deep in his stomach react.

“So…”

A noise like an airhorn sounded, and both of them started, their heads bumping together.

“Shit.”

“Sorry!” Logan whispered. “It's my phone. Ignore it.”

The notification blared again.

“I'll put it on silent.”

Logan fumbled in his pocket for his phone, while V took a couple of steps backwards.

“Sounds important,” he remarked.

“Don't worry about it,” Logan said. “It's nothing. We can – I should –”

“No.” V ducked his head, suddenly looking infinitely shier than he had five minutes earlier. “No, it's fine, you should get that. I'll – I should get going.”

Logan frowned. “You… don't have to.”

V ran a hand through his hair. His make-up was smeared at the edges, and Logan felt guilty for having been the one to ruin such artistry.

“I should go,” V repeated. “It's been a blast, Logan. See you around.”

He offered Logan another small salute, and then he was gone, leaving Logan staring in his wake.

Absently, he glanced down at his phone. Then he frowned – _sixteen unread messages from Patton_. Maybe this actually was important.

Logan began to read.

 

Patton was not having the best evening. He was, in fact, feeling somewhat disgruntled, and even a little peeved. If it were up to him, he might have some sharp words for -

But, well. There was a bigger problem to worry about.

“Come on, Pat,” Roman whined. “Just one text.”

“No.”

“Patton. Patty-cake. Mi muy cariñoso padre…”

“No phone,” Patton insisted. “You'll thank me in the morning.”

When the door of the room opened, and Logan's concerned face appeared, Patton almost sighed in relief. Finally, they could all go home.

“Patton! I came as soon as I received your missives.” Logan frowned. “Why are you sat on Roman's legs?”

Patton folded his arms, and looked at Roman. “Why am I sat on your legs, kiddo?”

Roman pouted. “Because I tried to run away when I was meant to stay in the recovery room.”

Logan moved to speak, but Patton held up a finger.

“And?”

“… and I climbed out the window.”

Logan stared for a second.

“Joan helped me pull him back inside,” Patton added.

“We're on the second floor.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “What exactly was your plan?”

“It was going to be like Pirates of the Caribbean! A swashbuckling escape! A daring rescue! Lovers reunited in battle!”

“Battle?” Logan asked.

“Well, okay, that part's a work in progress but… a grand gesture! Something to win him over! To… win him back.”

Roman's voice fell, and he started sobbing softly to himself. Patton gave him a pat on the shoulder, and sighed.

“Help me up?” he asked Logan. As he got to his feet, he hesitated.

“Wait – Lo, is that a bruise? Did you get in a fight or something?” Patton reached out, but Logan pulled his Hogwarts robes up over his neck to cover the mark, looking ruffled.

“It's nothing. I'll explain another time. But I am absolutely fine, Patton. How is Roman? What happened?”

Patton sucked in a breath. “You Know Who showed up to the party.”

“I gathered as much. And Roman?”

Patton wanted to list it on his fingers, but the onesie was covering his hands.

“Drank too much. Did the Thriller dance on top of a table. Started a swordfight with a plastic skeleton. Threw up in the staircase 3 shower, which I cleaned up. Tried to climb out of a window.” Patton thought for a moment. “Oh, and he called Him, then panicked and hung up. I took his phone after that, it's turned off in my bag.”

Logan's expression was grim. “I am sincerely sorry. I should have been there to help with… all of this. I didn't… I should have checked my phone sooner.”

“It's fine, kiddo! It's not your job to look after him,” Patton said. “I'm sorry to drag you away from the party. I just – if you don't mind giving me a hand getting him home? He's a bit much for me to handle like this.”

Roman was a full head taller than Patton. Stopping him from getting into even worse trouble this evening had been an… interesting challenge. Fortunately, Joan, Thomas and Talyn had helped wrangle him into the recovery room set aside during college parties for people who had overindulged. Patton had sent them back to the party once they were sure Roman was going to be alright – medically speaking.

“Of course I'll help,” Logan said, frowning slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something, then shook his head. “You should call a taxi. It's going to take us several minutes to get him down the stairs.”

While Patton opened the app on his phone, Logan crouched on the floor.

“Roman?” he asked, quietly. “Are you still feeling sad?”

“I miss him,” Roman said. He had stopped crying, but he hadn't made any move to get off the floor. His head was tipped back against the wall.

“I know. You are clearly experiencing a significant amount of emotional pain.”

“I don't know what to _do_.”

“There is no action required of you currently. Patton and I are going to take you home.”

Roman looked up sharply.

“No!” he said. “I can't go. This is my chance – I have to act while fate has intervened!”

Logan held up a hand, and waited for Roman to fall quiet.

“There is no need to act now. You are tired, stressed and unwell. You need to sleep.” Logan put a hand on Roman's shoulder, clearly a little uncertain. “If you still feel this way tomorrow, then I will help you make a plan of action.”

Roman leant his head sideways, pressing his cheek against Logan's hand.

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now, do you think you can stand up for me?”

Patton didn't realise he had been watching them until his phone buzzed that their car was on its way. Despite the long, tiring night he was having, his heart still glowed with happiness watching the sweet scene between his two closest friends.

With some difficulty, Logan stood Roman upright and wedged himself under his shoulder, while Patton supported his other side as best he could. The three of them stumbled down the spiral staircase, and made their way three-legged style across the quad towards the college's main gate.

Just as they walked out the door, a distant bell began to ring.

“Midnight,” Logan observed.

Roman spluttered with sudden laughter.

“I'm Cinderella!” he said, a little manically. “But… my prince isn't following after me.”

Patton leaned into his side, hugging him tightly.

“It'll be better in the morning, kiddo,” he said.

The taxi was pulling up in front of them.

“Come on, let's get you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: explicit description of manual sex, semi-public sex, sex with a stranger, consumption of alcohol, including unhealthy drinking, bad (non-sexual) decision-making and risk-taking while drunk, second-hand embarrassment, brief mention of throwing up.
> 
> So... what are you all going as for Halloween this year? I'm going to be a witch. :-)


	6. All Saints'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the Halloween party, the boys are still shaken by the events of the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings in the end notes!

**Saturday 4th Week, 8am (The Following Morning)**

**Patton:** oh my gosh! i'm so sorry i missed you last night!  
  
**Patton:** a friend was having a bad time and i completely forgot I was meant to be meeting you (Pensive Face)  
  
**Patton:** i'll make it up to you, i promise!  
  
**Virgil:** There's nothing to be sorry about, Pat. I never even got round to texting you.  
  
**Patton:** you're up early!  
  
**Patton:** hope i didn't wake you. (Crying Face)  
  
**Virgil:** Nah, I was awake anyway.  
  
**Patton:** i was going to say lets meet for coffee later, but since you're up…  
  
**Patton:** breakfast bagels?  
  
**Patton:** my treat!  
  
**Virgil:** You don't have to do that.  
  
**Patton:** i know, and i'm doing it anyway! (Grinning Face With Smiling Eyes)  
  
**Patton:** meet you in half an hour?  
  
**Virgil:** Sure, I'll see you there.

 

Gil was waiting outside the café when Patton arrived, his hands buried deep into the pockets of his hoodie as he hunched his shoulders against the wind. At first, Patton assumed that the worn look on his face was just due to the early hour, and that the shake he felt when he hugged Gil hello was just down to the chill in the air. But even as they sat down with their food, Gil looked shaken up about something.

“So you decided to stay in last night?” Patton prompted.

“Uh. Not exactly.” Gil shrugged. “Wait, first things first…”

He fumbled with his phone for a few seconds, then handed it to Patton. On the screen was a selfie of Gil in grim, skeletal make-up.

“Oh my goodness!” Patton put his hands over his mouth. “You look so great!”

Gil ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I was just thinking, I didn't have time to buy a costume, and we talked about -”

“Nightmare Before Christmas!”

Gil smiled softly. “Yeah, exactly.”

Patton handed his phone back.

“It looks amazing! I wish I'd seen it in person. But… you didn't make it to the party?”

“I, uh… kinda did. I was right outside and… but I ran into someone I know. We wound up… hanging out. And then once he had to go, it was getting late and I… I figured I ought to head home.”

Patton bit his lip. It was clear that there was something Gil wasn't saying about last night – but he had every right to not say everything! Only he looked even more stressed than he had a minute ago, and Patton couldn't help with that unless he knew what was wrong.

“You have trouble sleeping last night?” Patton asked.

“What?” Gil looked guilty. “A little, I mean – how can you tell?”

Patton shrugged. “You look tired.”

Gil picked at the cuff of his hoodie. “I guess. I mean, I was a little – amped up, after the party, maybe?”

“Something on your mind?”

Gil sighed heavily.

“Am I that easy to read?”

Patton smiled apologetically. “Well, if you make friends with a Psychology student…”

“You're a Psychology student?”

Gil sounded surprised. _Whoops_!

“Psychology, Philosophy and Linguistics!” Patton said. “Sorry, I forgot I never told you that.”

Gil had crossed his arms over his chest, and he was very still. Patton wasn't sure that he was actually breathing.

“I don't – I'm not trying to psychoanalyse you!” Patton said quickly. “That would be really, really unethical, and also a very bad idea, boy howdy. I was just making a silly joke! Look, we can talk about something else.”

“No, it's fine, it's fine,” Gil said. “You just surprised me, that's all. Actually, you know what, I don't know why I'm lying. I was awake all night and I feel like shit. You probably don't need to be a psychologist to know that.”

“I think being your friend is what tipped me off,” Patton said. “So… you wanna tell me what's eating you, and then we can get back to eating breakfast?”

Gil bit the nail of his thumb, clearly thinking.

“So it's like this,” he said after a minute. “Have you ever wanted to do something that you knew was going to be bad for you?”

“Well, sure, I guess.” Patton smiled. “Are we talking 'this cookie is fresh out the oven and it's going to burn my mouth but it smells _so good_ ' or something more… serious, kiddo?”

Gil threw up his hands.

“Whoa, okay, before we go any further, I am _not_ a danger to myself or others. I'm not going to do anything dumb so – so don't even think it, okay?”

Patton kept smiling, trying to hide that a part of him was relieved to hear it.

“Okay, okay! Cookies it is.”

“Right, so there are these delicious cookies – no, that's going to get old fast.” Gil rubbed his eyes. “There's something I really want, but I have a feeling in my gut that if I do it, it's going to blow up in my face. And I can't know that that's true – maybe I'm just being paranoid, it wouldn't be the first time! – but if I do it, and it was true, then it'll be my fault, because I knew it was a bad idea and I did it anyway.”

Patton took a drink of his hot chocolate and thought that over for a second.

“I don't see how that follows,” he said. “Just having a thought doesn't make you responsible for the chance that something might go wrong. Your thoughts don't make it any more likely that things will go wrong, even if it might feel that way.”

“But I knew it was a possibility,” Gil argued.

“Well, there's always a possibility that something will go wrong!” Patton said. “Is there anything you could do to mitigate the damage? So that if the bad thing does happen, things won't be as bad?”

Gil drummed his fingers on the table.

“… No. Not really. I mean -” He sighed. “I could talk to… people, try and get things straight, but I don't know if they'd listen. And… I don't know if they might be lying to me, if I asked.”

“Wait.” Patton frowned. “This is something that involves other people?”

Gil nodded.

“And everyone involved is an adult, who freely agreed to be involved?”

Gil hesitated, then nodded again.

“And have _you_ told any lies, or done anything with the intention of hurting anyone?”

“No, but -” Gil scowled. “I get what you mean, but it's not only on them! If I get involved, when I knew there was a chance someone might get hurt -”

“Then it's the fault of the person doing the hurting,” Patton said. “You can't blame yourself for someone else's behaviour, especially not if you think they might be lying to you.”

Gil was silent for a few seconds.

“I mean, I _can_ ,” he said, lightly.

“Well, don't!” Patton scolded. “Gil… you can't spend your time worrying about what other people might do. Life is full of things to be sad about. If you think you've found something that might make you happy… that's worth taking some risks over.”

Gil looked down at his coffee.

“Yeah… yeah, I guess you're right.” He laughed. “I mean, I still messed up last night. But at least I know what to be mad at myself about.”

“Hey!” Patton said. “Be nice! That's my friend you're talking about.”

Gil looked down again, blushing a little.

“Thanks for this, Pat. You really didn't have to buy me breakfast.”

“I'm just glad I could help out!” Patton smiled. “Now, how about you head home and take a nap, mister?”

Gil yawned.

“I don't know why I'm so tired,” he complained. “I literally just had coffee.”

“Uh,” Patton said.

Gil glared at him.

“I ordered decaf for you!” Patton admitted, his voice going high-pitched. “You look like you need some rest.”

“Well, you're right,” Gil said. “But don't mess with my coffee again.”

“I… probably won't?”

Gil's answering glower was ruined when he broke off into another yawn.

 

Roman awoke with a groan. He felt as though he had fought an evil army, been poisoned by a witch and then been sat on by a dragon. Dragon-witch battle aside, he was in desperate need of a glass of water, and as many painkillers as he could take without causing permanent damage.

He opened his eyes reluctantly, squinting at the light that crept through the crack in the curtains, and found water and paracetamol waiting for him on his bedside table. He swallowed the pills, and then read the note left for him in Patton's handwriting.

_Your phone is in the kitchen. Sleep well! - P_

Roman furrowed his brow, trying to remember why Patton would have his phone… and then groaned again, much louder.

He burrowed his head back under the covers, hoping to fall back asleep and wake up in a world where last night hadn't happened.

 

It was almost an hour before Roman's bladder dragged him out of bed, and once he was upright he couldn't deny the allure of breakfast waiting for him downstairs. He padded into the kitchen, and found Logan at the kitchen table, still in his flannel robe, in the middle of his customary breakfast of toast, jam and tea.

“There's hot water in the kettle if you want it,” Logan said. Roman winced a little at the sound, even though Logan had spoken quietly.

“You're up late,” Roman said.

“I understand that a relaxed start to the day is customary on weekends. Furthermore, I did not wish to lose out on sleep after our late return last night.” Logan levelled a look at Roman. “Did you sleep sufficiently?”

“I have a raging hangover, if that's what you're asking.”

“Not entirely unexpected, under the circumstances.” Logan shrugged. “But you're otherwise recovered?”

Roman made a distracted noise of agreement. His attention wasn't on Logan; he had picked up his phone, and was waiting for it to turn on.

After a few seconds, it began to buzz with notifications.

One missed call from (Sparkling Heart), 11:24pm. And, shortly afterwards, a single text.

**(Sparkling Heart) :**I guess you buttdialled me. Lol

Roman blinked a few times before sliding the phone into his pocket. He walked over to the kettle, and began making himself tea in the largest mug available.

“Hey, walking encyclopedia? How much tea would I have to drink before I drowned in it?”

Roman's voice cracked on the question.

“Several litres, I imagine,” Logan answered. “I take it that your emotional state is less than ideal?”

Roman's hands were shaking so hard that he splashed milk on the countertop.

“Shit.”

Roman scrambled for a cloth, but Logan stood, and pointed at the table. Roman sat, reluctantly, while Logan busied himself in the kitchen. A couple of minutes later, Roman had a plate full of fresh toast in front of him. Logan handed him the jam – _Logan's_ jam, which he lectured Roman for stealing at least once a week – without a word.

“I'll be fine,” Roman insisted.

“I know you will.”

Logan sounded so certain, as though he was daring the universe to disagree with him. Roman ate toast, and after a few minutes, his stomach stopped feeling like it had been stabbed through with a sword, and he could hold his tea without his hands shaking again. When he looked up, Logan was watching him.

“I was an ass last night,” he said.

“Again, understandable under the circumstances,” Logan commented. “If you're thinking of apologising, save it for Patton. I was barely present.”

Roman searched his memories, and indeed, Logan didn't seem to be in most of them. Which was strange – at a party full of strangers, Logan normally stuck to the people he knew like glitter to glue.

“Where did you get to, then?”

Logan flushed red, and that was when Roman noticed. There were patches of paleness across his neck.

“Are you wearing concealer?”

Logan turned even redder, and Roman was sure of it. Which meant…

Roman whistled, and Logan buried his face in his hands.

“You were with a guy! What happened? I need details!”

Logan groaned.

“I thought the rule was that you don't kiss and tell.”

“Come on, Lo, you can't deprive me of gossip in my own home!” Logan did not look up. “Just a few questions?”

“How many do I have to answer for you leave me alone?”

“Five?” Roman offered.

“Two.”

“Three,” Roman replied.

Logan looked up, scowling.

“Fine. Let's get this over with.”

Roman beamed at him.

“Question one!” He held up a finger. “Was this the same guy as at the start of term?”

“Yes.” Logan said, so quietly Roman could barely hear it.

“Okay… question two: this time, did your activities progress beyond, and I believe this was your exact words, 'kissing and light biting'?”

“… Yes, they did.”

Roman whistled again, and Logan glared at him.

“Final question,” he reminded Roman.

“Final question,” Roman agreed. “Question three… did you have fun?”

Logan let out a strangled sound that was either a hideous coughing fit or a poor attempt to hide a laugh.

“Yes, Roman,” he said eventually. “I enjoyed myself immensely.”

“ _Immensely_?” Roman repeated, waggling his eyebrows.

Logan groaned again. “Please don't.”

Roman smiled at him.

“One more question – I know, I had my three, you don't have to answer it, but – are we ever going to meet this guy of yours?”

Logan scoffed. “He's hardly _mine_. And I would have difficulty introducing you, since I don't actually possess his contact information.”

“That's easy enough,” Roman said. “You can just go by his room, right?”

Logan went very still, and a realisation hit Roman all at once.

“Oh my prancing pegasi, you two weren't _in_ his room. Where _were_ you?”

Logan was clearly flustered.

“Roman, you had your questions -”

“You didn't have time to leave college so that means -”

“The terms of the deal were clearly agreed -”

“It can't possibly be worse than what I'm imagining, just tell me -”

“The library! It was in the library!”

Immediately after Logan's shout, the front door slammed shut.

“Good morning!” Patton called from the hallway, but Roman was far too distracted to reply.

“Wow,” he said slowly. “I guess… four points to Logan.”

“Points?” Patton said, stood in the doorway. “Like… house points?”

“No, I mean – you never learned this in Freshers Week?” Roman looked between his two housemates, both of whom seemed equally confused. “Of course you didn't, you're… you two.”

“So how did Logan get points?” Patton asked, taking a seat at the table. “Oh, and who wants muffins? I went out for breakfast and I thought I'd pick you two up a treat.”

He held up the paper bag he was carrying, and handed out muffins to everyone – blueberry for Logan, cherry and almond for Roman, and chocolate chip for himself.

While Patton was getting plates, Roman tried to explain.

“I mean – it's just a silly game people play. You know, you get points for different locations, depending on difficulty. One point for a classroom, two for the common room, three for a professor's office… up to ten for the chapel.”

“And you… participated in this?” Logan asked.

Roman jutted his chin proudly. “Eleven points and counting!”

“Uh, guys?” Patton interrupted with his mouth full. “I don't quite follow. What do you get points for doing?”

“Having sex.”

Patton choked on his muffin, coughing helplessly while Roman slapped him on the back a couple of times.

“Sorry! I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's… fine, Ro. I don't mind hearing about it, you know that, you just – took me by surprise.”

Logan tipped his head to the side.

“And do a lot of people try to maximise their scores on this game?”

“A few,” Roman said.

“I am never sitting on the common room sofa again,” Logan said.

Roman laughed.

“I hate to break it to you, Specs, but this town has been home to thousands of frustrated eighteen-to-twenty five year olds for literally centuries. There probably isn't a single cobblestone that has maintained its chastity.”

“… and I find that I've lost my appetite.” Logan picked up his muffin and stood. “I'll eat this later. Thank you for thinking of me, Patton.”

“No problem,” Patton said, in a voice that sounded so unlike him that it instantly caught Roman's attention. As Logan left the room, Patton looked like he had deflated. He was picking at his muffin with an utterly dejected look on his face.

Roman didn't understand why the change had come over him so suddenly. Only a minute or so earlier, Patton had been his usual cheery self, and now he looked…

He looked not unlike Roman had felt last night.

And with that thought, Roman realised a whole lot of things all at once.

He realised that things had been different between Patton and Logan since the start of term. That there was some new tension in the air. Like something had been realised – or said – that couldn't be taken back.

Patton and Logan had been best friends the whole time he had known them, completely inseparable. Patton's face always lit up when Logan entered the room, just like he always fretted when Logan started to overwork himself. And when people asked if they were a couple – which they often did – Logan had always been the one quick to correct them, while Patton never said anything at all.

_Oh my stars_ , Roman thought. _Patton has a crush on Logan._

_And I am an insensitive, big-mouthed idiot._

“Ro?” Patton was looking at him, a half-hearted smile on his face. “You okay there, kiddo?”

“Uh… sure thing, Pat–Padre!”

Roman didn't know how to fix this. He had made a mess of things, and all he wanted to do was to wipe the sad look out of Patton's eyes.

“Say, Pat,” he said slowly. “Are you up to much today?”

“Not really,” Patton said. “I guess I have some reading to make a start on, but no big plans.”

“You want to hang out with me and watch a movie?”

“What did you have in mind?”

Last summer, when Roman had spent a full week moping in his room, Patton had dragged him into the living room, put Inside Out on the TV, and told Roman one simple thing:

“When you're sad, sometimes what you need most is something you're allowed to cry at.”

Roman had watched a lot of sad movies with Patton over the summer.

“I was thinking that we haven't watched Toy Story 3 in a while,” Roman said.

Patton started a little, and laid a hand on his arm.

“You sure you're okay?”

“I'm… not my usual fabulous self. And, if you'll forgive me for saying so… you don't seem to be, either.”

Patton shrugged, but he couldn't meet Roman's eyes.

“I guess the party took a lot out of me.”

“I'm sorry,” Roman said, hoping that Patton could somehow hear how much he meant it.

Perhaps he did, because for once, he didn't shrug it off straight away. He met Roman's gaze for a couple of seconds.

“There's nothing you need to apologise for,” Patton said, slowly. “But yeah. Let's watch a movie.”

“Can you go ahead and set up?” Roman asked. “There's… something I need to do first.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

Roman waited until he was alone before opening up the Contacts on his phone, and finally hitting the button he'd spent half the summer thinking about.

_Are you sure you want to delete_ (Sparkling Heart) _from your contacts?_

Roman tapped once on the Confirm button, and quickly slid his phone back into his pocket. Then he went and curled up on the sofa next to Patton.

And if both of them were crying long before the movie's end, well. No-one needed to know.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Anxiety, heartbreak, second-hand embarrassment, implied mention of self-harm/suicidal behaviour, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of public sex.
> 
> I toyed with revealing what's up with Virgil this chapter but I decided to string you along a little further. It's coming soon though, so leave your guesses now... :-D


	7. Course Correction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is confronted about his behaviour. Logan goes out. Patton has a late night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late, it really kicked my ass ~~and so did insomnia~~. Hopefully next chapter will be a bit more timely.
> 
> Content Warnings in the end-notes.

**Monday 5th Week, 1pm (Two Days Later)**

“Don't forget to do the additional reading we discussed, and I'll see you all next week.”

Roman let out a loud sigh of relief as class ended, and everyone began packing away their notes. It had been a rough weekend, and the last thing he needed today was to spend another moment in the same room as Angst-ell.

They had gotten into another little debate earlier in the session, but apparently _someone_ didn't know how to keep things academic, because Ansell had spent the last half-hour glaring at Roman with unconcealed loathing, shaking as though he might actually throw a punch over their differing views on seventeenth-century playwrights.

But of course, Roman couldn't escape unscathed. Even as he got to his feet, Ansell – storming towards the door at high speed – collided heavily with his shoulder. They both winced, but Ansell barely paused to regain his balance before stomping onwards, out of the room.

Roman scowled.

“Excuse _you_ , Hot Topic,” he called after the figure retreating down the corridor.

Ansell didn't even glance back at him.

“You okay there, man?”

Roman turned, and smiled at Joan.

“Absolutely fine, my friend! Despite Doctor Gloom there's efforts to the contrary.”

But despite the obvious hilarity of that nickname, Joan didn't so much as crack a smile. Roman could forgive them that though – it seemed it was just one of those days.

“You heading back to college for lunch?” Joan asked.

“Absolutely! Walk with me?”

He made a show of offering Joan his arm, which they laughed off as they fell into step beside him. The two of them made their way out of the faculty building in silence, which was a little unusual. Roman was beginning to wonder if something was wrong when Joan asked:

“Hey dude, can I talk to you about something?”

Roman's brain span into overdrive.

“Is this about the play?” he asked immediately. “Is it – something to do with casting? I -”

“No, man, relax, it's not about the play,” Joan said immediately. “You'll get the cast list over email like everyone else. Soon, though, I promise.”

Roman's train of thought screeched to a halt. Where a second ago, he had a million ideas as to what this might be about, suddenly he had none.

“… then what?” he asked.

“Uh,” Joan said. “You know the new guy in class?”

“The Incredible Sulk, you mean? Yes, I think we've met.”

This time, it was unmistakable. Joan frowned.

“Listen, man,” they said. “You need to lay off of him. That's all I'm trying to say.”

“What? Why?”

Joan made a frustrated noise.

“Because he's just some guy in class! I don't know why you have a problem with him in the first place.”

“He's a creepy cookie!” Roman protested. “I mean, where did he even come from, just showing up in class one day like that?”

“Yes. Where could he have come from.” Joan's flat tone suggested Roman was missing something obvious.

“Well, it's not like he could have transferred from another uni into second year!”

“Nope,” Joan agreed.

“And he definitely doesn't sound like he's here on a year abroad or anything!”

“Agreed.”

“So where did he come from? It's not like he was in first year with us!”

“Not with _us_ , he wasn't,” Joan confirmed.

“So… you think he did first year some other time?” Roman tried to work out what his friend was getting at.

“Imagine,” Joan said. “Someone doing first year _earlier_ than us. And then. Ending up in _our_ classes for second year.”

The penny dropped.

“… You think he had to take a year out?”

“Got there eventually!”

“But… that's only for if…”

That was only for if something _really_ bad happened. The kind of bad that meant you couldn't possibly study any more. Eight-weeks-in-bed-with-glandular-fever, I-had-to-go-to-rehab, my-mother-died _bad_.

“Okay,” Roman said slowly. “But it's not like we _know_ that's what happened, right?”

“You got a better explanation?”

Roman frowned.

“Even if he did have a year out, he's still a pain in my ass every time we have class together. He sits in the corner sulking and glowering at everyone -”

“Man in room full of strangers is reluctant to talk, more news at eleven.”

“Oh, come on!” Roman scoffed. “Did you see him at the end of class today? He looked like he was about to throttle me!”

“And yet, you somehow remain unthrottled.”

Roman glared at Joan.

“Come on!” They complained. “You read that as aggressive, really? It looked to me like he was _literally_ falling over himself to get away from you.”

“Yeah, because _that's_ such friendly behaviour.”

“I'm not saying you have to be friends with him!” Joan threw up their hands. “Just take it down a couple of notches. Let him make a point without arguing every once in a while. Stop pulling faces when his back is turned. Aim for 'casual dislike' instead of 'sworn enmity.'”

Roman clenched his jaw.

“I do not pull faces,” he said.

“That's the spirit!” Joan elbowed him. “Think of it this way – you'll have more time to turn the patented Prince charm on Professor W. There's still four weeks of term left to impress her, right?”

“Are you saying she isn't already impressed?” Roman struck a dramatic pose.

“Mmm… you being a bit less of a dickhead would probably help.” Joan grinned, but when Roman didn't laugh their face fell a little. “Come on man, I'm joking. You're doing great.”

“Sure,” Roman said.

“Now, hurry up. I want to get to lunch before they run out of veggie burgers.”

 

**Thursday 5th Week, 10pm (Three Days Later)**

“Hey babes.”

“Salutations, Rehmat.”

The man beside Logan at the bar lowered his trademark sunglasses for long enough to shoot a pointed look.

“I must be going deaf,” he said, “because I could have sworn I just heard my grandmother, but _you_ are not an eighty-two year old Pakistani lady.”

Logan half-smiled.

“Hey, Remy,” he recited, dutifully.

“Better.” Remy grinned. “Now, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cornflakes this morning, or am I kicking you out the club?”

Logan blinked at him.

“I didn't consume cereal this morning. My preferred breakfast -”

“Figure of speech, honey,” Remy said gently. “It means you need to tell me why you've been stood around nursing that drink and glowering all night. You're scaring the freshers.”

Logan frowned. He hadn't intended for his discontent to be visible, but then again, he was far from expert at masking his emotions from others.

It was true that he was uncomfortable in his current surroundings. The weekly LGBTQSoc drinks were exactly the sort of hormone-fuelled social affair he generally preferred to avoid. However, the source of his present dissatisfaction had less to do with the loud music and large numbers of people present in the room, and more to do with a conspicuous absence of the person he had been hoping to find.

“So,” Remy said. “What's his name?”

Logan choked on his drink.

“I don't know who you're referring to,” he said quickly.

“Uh huh. Because nothing about you, here, with that look on your face, screams 'boy trouble'. And bee-tee-dubs? Your face is so red right now.” Remy grinned, and switched to a sing song voice. “Come on, tell Uncle Remy the goss.”

Logan considered the offer. As much as Remy might talk about 'gossip', he was by all accounts a good listener and able to keep a secret. And… Logan didn't have many people he could to talk to about this. Not without dealing with… feelings.

“Hypothetically,” he began, then hesitated.

“Hypothetically?” Remy repeated, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

Logan couldn't look at him.

“In a purely hypothetical scenario,” Logan said again, “if one were to… engage in sexual behaviours with someone, and one's partner, uh, chose to depart before – uh, reciprocation could occur… what would that suggest?”

Logan was frustrated by how weak the question sounded coming out his mouth, but Remy simply shrugged.

“I mean, it could easily be an ace thing, right?”

Logan tapped his fingers against the bar.

“The partner in question is, to the best of my knowledge, not on the asexual spectrum.”

“Oh.”

Logan waited the three seconds it took Remy to look him up and down, re-evaluating. He pretended that he didn't know what that look meant, what Remy had been assuming, what he wasn't saying right now.

_So, we're not talking about Patton?_

No. They weren't.

“Well, there are other possibilities,” Remy continued, a little too upbeat. “Even if he's not ace, some people just aren't into that. And of course, there's the chance that things went a little… _too_ well for him, if you follow me.”

Logan's eyes go wide. He hadn't considered the possibility that V might have achieved orgasm from the minimal stimulation Logan had managed to provide. Certainly, embarrassment over such an event might explain his sudden departure afterwards.

It was a nice theory. However, Logan was doubtful that his performance had been quite that impressive.

“Any… alternate hypotheses?”

Remy stirred his cocktail.

“Performance anxiety?”

Without hesitation, Logan shook his head. From what he had seen, he would hardly characterise V as anxious.

Remy huffed.

“I can feel that negative energy coming off you babes, and it's not cool. If this whole thing is getting in your head, there's one guy you need to talk to – and honey, he isn't me.”

Logan shot Remy a look, and downed the last of his drink.

“Why do you think I came here?” he asked.

Remy's eyes grew wide.

“Your guy stood you up?”

“Not exactly.” Logan tapped on the bar a few more times. “But I came here looking for him.”

“See, this is why you should have opened with his name.” Remy laughed. “Come on, girl. I run this thing. You _know_ I know my regulars.”

“He's -” Logan paused. “Mid-brown hair, about your height. Brown eyes. He seems to have an inclination towards the gothic, or at least wearing black. Wears a lip ring.”

Remy rose his eyebrows, but he dutifully thought about it for a few seconds.

“No,” he said eventually. “That isn't anyone I've seen around here. Sounds cute, though.”

Logan sighed.

“Sorry girl, your prince is in another castle.” Remy patted him on the shoulder. “Go home. Try again another night, kay? I'm rooting for you!”

Logan blinked a couple of times before turning to leave.

He wasn't going to give up yet. There were other places he could look.

 

The sound of a key in the door made Patton jump. He looked up from the textbook in front of him, rubbing his eyes. How long had he been reading and re-reading this chapter? He couldn't seem to make sense of it, no matter how hard he tried.

He could hear Logan in the hallway, taking off his shoes. After a moment, he appeared at the doorway.

“Patton?” he asked. “It's uncharacteristically late for you to be awake.”

Patton frowned. He felt exhausted right down to his bones, but that had been the case almost as soon as he had sat down.

“What time is it?”

“Twenty past midnight.”

“Oh.”

Patton looked down at his half-completed notes. It wasn't _enough_.

“Patton?”

Logan was stood beside the table now. Patton hadn't noticed him moving there.

“It's fine, Lo,” he said automatically. “I'll head to bed as soon as I'm done here.”

“And is your work nearly complete?”

Patton's breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he couldn't breathe; his chest was tight, his skin was prickled with sweat, he couldn't _breathe_ -

Logan crouched in front of him, and carefully took Patton's hands in his own.

“Pat? Can you look at me?”

Patton tore his eyes away from the papers spread out in front of him, and looked at Logan. Logan didn't like to make eye contact, but his gaze was fixed firmly on Patton's hands.

“You're shaking,” he said, simply.

“It's not nearly done,” Patton whispered. “I barely started but I – I can't get these references straight, and I'm supposed to understand them already, I need them for my supervisor meeting -”

“When's the meeting?”

“Tomorrow.” Patton bit his lip. “Afternoon, but there are morning lectures and I thought I could finish this tonight but I _can't_!”

“Then I would recommend you set an early alarm tomorrow morning, and complete the work to the best of your ability then. Your productivity this evening is unlikely to improve at this point.”

Patton shook his head, unable to put his misgivings into words.

“Even if you are unable to complete the work before the meeting, your supervisor should provide assistance with whichever concepts you are struggling to grasp. If she reprimands you for failing in spite of your best efforts, then she is not performing her duties to you adequately.”

Patton could feel his throat beginning to tighten again. Logan squeezed his hands gently, taking deep, steady breaths that Patton did his best to imitate.

“Sorry,” Patton gasped after a minute. “It's nothing. You're right, I can do it in the morning. It'll be fine! Get to bed, you don't need to worry about me.”

Logan's brow furrowed.

“You don't have to tell me what's bothering you, although I believe it would benefit you to do so. In either case, I am not leaving you.” He stood up. “Would you like a hot chocolate?”

“What?”

“Or another warm drink? That is what you typically suggest to me when I am distressed by deadlines.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “You also respond well to physical reassurance – would you like a hug?”

All of a sudden, Patton could feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. In spite of himself, he nodded, and was surprised when Logan wrapped his arms around him without hesitation, letting Patton press his face against the front of Logan's shirt.

All at once, the words were spilling out of him.

“I'm going to fail. I should never have chosen a Psychology project, it's too hard, there's so much to do and I was better at Linguistics, I chose wrong and now I'm going to fail and I don't know why I'm even doing this -”

“Because you are passionate about your work.” Logan's voice was calm and steady. “You care a great deal about everything you do, and that care is what is going to make you an excellent therapist. Any project you chose would have been hard, but you had to follow your heart, and with your supervisor's support, you will succeed.”

Patton stayed there, leaning against him, for a few more seconds. Suddenly, all the fear had drained out of him, and the only thing left was the exhaustion.

He pulled away from Logan, who was watching him carefully.

“Patton,” he said slowly. “I know… I hope my actions in recent weeks have not given you any reason to doubt our friendship. Your companionship means a great deal to me.”

“… of course not.” Patton replied. “Logan, I – I care a lot about you too.”

He sighed.

“This year – I've missed you, you know?”

Patton expected Logan to misunderstand, to answer _I'm right here_ , but instead, he paused, tilting his head thoughtfully.

“While our new living arrangement has many advantages, privacy being first among them, I must confess that I have felt… a surprising amount of nostalgia for our time as roommates. Perhaps we should… endeavour to adjust our habits to compensate for our altered routines.”

Patton half-smiled. Trust Logan to use a paragraph to say something simple – but it was something Patton had needed to hear.

_He misses me too._

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

Patton's words were cut off by a large yawn. Logan smiled slightly.

“But first,” he said, “I suggest we sleep.”

“… Sounds good,” Patton said again, as he got to his feet, and let Logan lead him slowly upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Academic stress, brief mention of sexual activity and alcohol.


	8. Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Virgil get paired for a project. Logan's search finally makes some headway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much I want to get posted before Christmas! I probably won't manage to get it all written in time, but with a little luck we'll be on to the boys' second term before the end of January - and there's a whole lot that's going to happen between now and then! Where did all this plot come from?
> 
> Content Warnings in the end notes.

**Wednesday 6th Week, 7pm (One Week Later)**

Logan sat on the windowseat in the corner of the common room, his presence feeling over-conspicuous in the silence of the large room. When the door opened, he started in spite of himself, his head snapping to the side at the sound.

Thomas started a little when he saw Logan waiting.

“Hey, bud. You here for welfare movie night? You're a little early.”

Logan nodded. Thomas strolled across the room and sat on the sofa opposite his position, leaning forwards.

“Anything up?” Thomas asked. “You're always welcome, of course, but you're not exactly one of the regulars.”

“I -”

In spite of the fact that this was exactly the opportunity Logan had hoped for, he choked.

“I wanted to introduce myself to some of the new students,” he lied.

“Uhh...” Thomas smiled apologetically. “You want to try that again, Lo? You hate meeting new people.”

Logan could feel his cheeks burning. He stared at the ground between Thomas's feet, took a moment to listen for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Then he said:

“I'm looking for someone.”

“I can't give out anyone's details to you,” Thomas said automatically.

“I know that.” If Logan had wanted to find V unethically, he would have abused his position as LGBTQSoc IT Officer to search for students on the mailing list with that initial. Not that he'd considered pursuing such a plan of action. Yet.

“Good,” Thomas said. Then he smiled. “So, what's his name?”

“… He asked me to call him V.”

Logan relayed his description as succinctly as he could. When he mentioned V's tendency to dress as what Roman would call 'a Goth', Thomas sucked in a sharp breath.

Logan looked up sharply.

“You… know him?”

“I might,” Thomas said, very carefully. “That… everything you said reminds me of someone. I don't know if it's the same person, though.”

Logan didn't know what to say. He very badly wanted to ask for more information, but knew that Thomas couldn't give him any. He bit his lip, waiting for Thomas to suggest a course of action.

“I'll make you a deal,” Thomas said. “You stay for the meeting. There are never enough upper-year students, and I'm sure some of the folks would love to meet you. And in return…”

Logan was holding his breath.

“I'll get in touch with… the guy I'm thinking of. Let him know that you're looking for him. Is that okay?”

“You'll pass on my email address?” Thomas nodded. “Thank you. I… greatly appreciate that.”

“No problem!” Thomas said with a smile.

Before Logan could respond, there was a knock at the door.

“Right on time.” Thomas laughed. “Come on in, guys! There's someone here I'd like you to meet…”

 

**Thursday 6th Week, 4pm (The Next Day)**

“And I think that about covers it for today,” Professor Wilder concluded. “Now, about your work for next week…”

Roman turned to face the professor, pen ready in hand to take notes on the assignment, and absolutely did not react to the fact that Ansell was staring out the window, tapping his pen against his knee, showing no sign of paying attention. This was his second week of trying to ignore the Negative Nancy who lurked in the corner of every seminar. Ansell still gloomed and glowered and otherwise acted as ill-mannered as he possibly could, but Roman had not risen to the bait.

Well. _Mostly_. But he was trying, and that was what counted.

“We'll be doing things a little differently this week,” Professor Wilder explained with a smile. “Instead of an essay, I want you all to produce a fifteen-minute presentation in which you explore the way that one particular folkloric tradition has influenced modern culture. Now, I know that's a broad topic, but I want you to use your creativity. This is your chance to impress me.”

Roman could have jumped for joy. This was exactly the opportunity he had been waiting for! Already, his mind was racing with potential ideas, works he could examine, sources he could reference -

“And, to make things a little more challenging,” the professor continued, “this week you'll be working in pairs. Let's see, we have Mr Prince with Mr Ansell -”

The professor kept talking, but Roman couldn't hear her over the roaring in his ears. He couldn't believe this was happening to him.

His dream assignment, and he had to work with the biggest asshole in college.

He could see it already – trying to present his ideas while Ansell sulked on the opposite side of the screen, hands in his pockets, contributing nothing – or else, arguing back against every point Roman made! Would he perhaps be willing to duck out, let Roman complete the assignment single-handed and simply take half the credit? The idea grated, but worse still, it failed to sound feasible. The professor was familiar with their styles of argument, and if Ansell's was lacking from the finished presentation, she would know. Unless Roman tried to write like Ansell… but no, he could never. The mere thought of it was enough to make him shudder.

“Professor, if I might have a moment…?”

As soon as the class was dismissed, Roman made a beeline for Professor Wilder. She raised an eyebrow at his approach.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You have some very sound reasoning as to why you should be allowed to switch partners for this week's assignment.”

 _Rumbled_. Roman offered her his most charming apologetic smile.

“These pairings were not chosen randomly, Mr Prince, and they are not up for debate. I am aware that you and Mr Ansell are not on close terms. But in the world of academia – and indeed, the world in general – one does not always get to work with people one likes.”

Roman sighed. It was clear this wasn't worth arguing with.

“In that case, I will endeavour to consider this practise,” he said, reluctantly.

“Mr Prince?” The professor stopped him as he turned to go. “Consider it a _challenge_. The synthesis of two opposing ideas is often more interesting than either of its components. You and Mr Ansell are both very skilled students. I hope to be impressed by what you produce together.”

“… Thank you.”

Roman wasn't quite sure what to make of that… except that Professor Wilder had called him a 'very skilled student'!

“Hey!” he called after Ansell's retreating back. “Uh, wait up a second?”

He realised, very belatedly, that he didn't actually have anything to call Ansell that wasn't insulting. He only knew his second name, which was useless unless he wanted to sound like a Harry Potter character.

“What do you want?” Ansell snarled at him.

Roman forced a smile, reminding himself to be civil.

“We need to arrange a time to meet,” he said. “We should exchange contact information.”

Ansell gave him a dirty look, then held out a hand.

“Phone.”

He quickly typed his number into Roman's phone before handing it back. To Roman's frustration, he didn't bother filling out a contact name for himself.

“Text me,” he said curtly, turning to leave.

Think of it as a challenge, Roman repeated to himself.

He had a feeling those words would be on his mind a lot this week.

 

**Friday 6th Week, 8pm (The Next Day)**

Virgil was scrolling idly on Tumblr when his phone pinged with a notification.

Finally! He'd been waiting all day to hear back from His High-and-Mightiness about meeting to plan this fucking presentation. This was the problem with giving out his number instead of taking one, but taking out his phone would have cost him precious extra seconds in Princey's presence. It was bad enough that they were going to have to spend half the weekend together getting this project complete; Virgil didn't want to waste another moment of his time around the guy if he could help it.

But when he looked at his phone, to his surprise, the message wasn't a text. It was an email.

 

From: thomas.sanders@st-toms.ox.ac.uk

Subject: Hi!

 

Hey Virgil!

I hope you remember me – I'm one of the college welfare reps. We met at the start of term?

A friend of mine mentioned that he was looking for someone called V and his description kinda reminded me of you, so I thought I'd get in touch. If you know someone called Logan, he's looking for you, and you can email him at logan.edison@st-toms.ox.ac.uk

If not, sorry to bother you about nothing! Feel free to stop by and hang out sometime, though – you can always find me at Wednesday night movie night!

Don't be a stranger!

\- Thomas

 

Virgil stared at his phone in incomprehension. He reread the message again and again, waiting for it to make sense.

_If you know someone called Logan, he's looking for you._

 

_**Flashback: Monday 1st Week, 1am (The Start Of Term Party)** _

Virgil stumbled out of the front door of the house feeling like lightning was running through his veins. He hadn't even wanted to come out tonight, but he'd forced himself, trying to act like a normal student would. Now he was buzzed on cheap vodka and about to go home with the hottest guy in the room.

He swaggered his way to the end of the garden path.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Of course, he should have known his luck wouldn't last.

Virgil turned to face the source of the voice, a familiar figure stood vaping under a nearby streetlight. The man's trademark black hat cast half his face into shadow.

“Lyle.”

“Virgil! It's been too long.” Lyle grinned. “I'm _so_ glad you're giving this year another go after your… troubles.”

Heat coiled in Virgil's gut at the same time that ice gripped his mind. He wanted to punch that smug smile right off of Lyle's face, wanted to run a million miles in the other direction, wanted to scream obscenities at the top of his lungs – but do any of that, and he'd lose his chance with the one good thing remaining about tonight. He was frozen in place, unable to move.

And of course, Lyle kept talking:

“It looked like you and Logan were having fun.”

Virgil made a grunt of acknowledgement, glancing back at the house. What was taking so long? Why couldn't this guy – Logan, whatever – hurry up?

“Let me guess – he wanted to go back to _your_ place?”

There was a twist in Lyle's voice that wormed its way inside Virgil, past all his attempts to ignore it. He had to ask:

“What the fuck do you mean?”

Lyle laughed, lightly.

“Oh, nothing much. Only – you couldn't go to his house, could you? Not with that lovely little thing he has waiting for him at home.”

It took a few moments for Virgil to process what Lyle was saying – what he was accusing Logan of, Virgil of, fuck, he didn't _do_ cheating -

“You didn't know?” Lyle asked, his voice dripping with false innocence. “Such a sweet man, everyone loves him. Of course he has no idea about Logan's… extracurriculars.”

Virgil didn't believe a word of it. Of course he didn't, this was _Lyle_. He wouldn't trust a single word out of that snake's mouth.

Only -

“What, you didn't think he was in your league, did you?” Lyle continued. “Oh, don't look so worried, Virgil. From what I hear, you're _far_ from the first – and I'm sure Logan will make it good for you…”

Virgil didn't give a crap if any of this was true or not. If he stood here a moment longer, he was going to get kicked out of uni for breaking Lyle's nose. He was leaving, _now_.

He turned and marched down the street, the sound of Lyle's laughter echoing in his ears.

 

**Friday 6th Week, 8pm (Present Day)**

The first time he'd met Logan, Virgil had stood him up.

Running into Logan a second time had felt like history repeating itself. Another night, party Virgil hadn't wanted to be at. He'd spent about ten minutes hyperventilating outside, trying to build up the nerve to text Patton, when over walked Logan, sitting next to him like it was nothing.

And for an hour or so, Virgil felt drunk – drunk on one beer and leftover adrenaline and kissing someone beautiful, and most of all on watching Logan come apart under his hands, the way his cheeks flushed and his eyes closed and his breath caught in his throat, the soft desperate moan of his release.

And then -

It had been so, so easy to dismiss Lyle's words. Lyle was full of bullshit. But something about the way Logan jumped at the text, the way he didn't even look at his phone, he told Virgil to just _ignore_ _it_ -

Suddenly, not knowing if it was real or not was more than Virgil could handle. He'd all but run away before Logan could see him start to panic, made his way home to a long night of self-flagellation, harsh words circling in his mind: _cheater, home-wrecker, heart-breaker, slut_.

He knew, at least in theory, that it wasn't his fault if Logan _was_ a cheater. It wasn't like he had any way to know.

_Not that he'd asked…_

But people lied. He couldn't help that. Wasn't that what Patton had said? Just because he was involved, that didn't make it his fault. Even if someone was getting their heart broken.

Fuck.

And that was the problem now, because Virgil wasn't drunk at all. He was stone cold sober, and staring down Logan's email address, and he knew -

He was going to fall for it.

Because he wanted this, so much. Wanted to feel again the way he had those nights. He wanted to have one memory with Logan that didn't end in disaster.

It would make him happy. And that, he had been told, was worth taking a few risks over.

Wasn't it?

Virgil's phone buzzed again, this time with that long-awaited message from Princey. He ignored it, for the time being.

He had something else to worry about right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Antagonistic Deceit, first-person descriptions of anxiety and anger, slur (sl*t), negative self-talk, mentions of alcohol, cheating/infidelity and sexual situations.
> 
> ... yes my name for Deceit is Lyle. Y'all can keep your intricately meaningful headcanons, I'm going for the really bad pun.


	9. Make It Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pieces begin to come together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, holidays really kicked my butt this year. Hopefully I'll have more time to write again now that they're over and done with. Thanks for bearing with me, folks!
> 
> Content Warnings in the end notes.

**Saturday 6th Week, 2pm (Two Days Later)**

Roman eyed the building in front of him with some trepidation. The blocky, dated, concrete and glass edifice was a far cry from the ancient grandeur of the main college building, and a part of Roman couldn't help but feel that the aesthetic reflected poorly upon its residents. That was unfair however; plenty of good people lived in the college annexe.

It was simply that Ansell was the one Roman was here to see.

Roman keyed in the door code, and made his way up a narrow, echoing stairwell to the third floor. The second door on the right bore the nameplate V. Ansell.

Roman was suddenly certain that he had never actually heard Ansell's first name. What could V possibly stand for? Victor? Vincent? _Valentino_? Surely he would remember, if he'd ever known.

He was still wondering when Ansell threw open the door. The emo was on particularly fine form today, with a thick layer of black eyeshadow smudged around his eyes and his brown hair messed up like he'd just rolled out of bed. He was also – Roman blinked – wearing a silver lip ring, which Roman had definitely never seen before.

Despite the afternoon hour, the curtains of Ansell's room were resolutely closed against any form of daylight. The room had much the same aesthetic as the building itself, with peeling wallpaper and ambiguously-brown carpets. Roman was surprised to find that the floor was mostly _not_ littered with Ansell's belongings, although there was a heap of laundry – almost entirely black – at the foot of the bed. Besides a laptop and a few textbooks on the bookshelf, the only signs of inhabitance were a couple of Nightmare Before Christmas posters tacked up on the pinboard.

“Nice posters,” Roman said with a nod.

Ansell raised his eyebrows slightly.

“Thanks,” he said, in the least grateful tone Roman had ever heard. “Come on, then.”

He gestured to an armchair that looked at least twenty years old. Roman supposed this was as close as he was going to get as being invited inside.

“So…” Roman began, but there was no good way to say this. “What does 'V' stand for, anyway?”

Ansell blinked at him, and then grinned.

“Actually, my name is Nunya.”

“Nunya?” Roman had never heard of that name before. “That's an interesting -”

“Nunya Business,” Ansell added with a smirk.

Roman scowled.

“Look Princey, we have to work together. That doesn't mean we have to like each other.” Ansell bit his lip ring. “Let's just get this over with.”

Roman gave a mock bow.

“As you wish, Jason Todd-ler.” He grabbed a notepad out of his bag. “So, first things first, let's pick a topic.”

Ansell said nothing.

Roman gave him a pointed look.

Ansell shrugged.

“I know you have some idea for what you want to do,” he said. “How about, you start, and _I_ tell you why you're wrong.”

Roman groaned. Was impressing Professor Wilder really worth this?

… Yes. It was.

“Okay. My first thought was to expand on what we were discussing last tutorial, and look into some cinematic adaptations from the horror genre -”

Ansell made a scoffing noise.

“What?” Roman asked.

“Isn't that a bit – obvious?” Ansell said. “And besides, you know Stokes is going to be all over that stuff in their presentation.”

Roman tipped his head to the side. Ansell had a good point.

“Well, okay. Something else then. How about -”

Roman went through a half-dozen more ideas, and true to form, Ansell shot each of them down. Infuriatingly enough, he was mostly making good points – a lot of Roman's ideas would be difficult to pull off in the time span, or else wouldn't allow Ansell to contribute much. Which in Roman's opinion might not be the _worst_ thing in the world, but -

“Okay, not that either.” Roman scribbled out the last couple of lines of notes. So far the page in front of him was half-filled with crossings-out. “I did have one more thought, but… you're not going to like it.”

“Promising start,” Ansell snarked.

“It's Disney.”

Ansell groaned. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“Disney is the best example of folklore reinterpretation in the modern world!” Roman protested.

“So what, you want to write an analysis of Cinderella? Snow White? Beauty and the Beast?”

Ansell's voice was dripping with scorn.

“As a matter of fact, no.” Roman folded his arms. “I wanted to write an analysis on Mulan.”

Ansell blinked.

“You know this is an English-language folklore class?”

Roman rolled his eyes.

“Yes, of course, but Mulan isn't only based on – well, _Mulan_. It was created by Americans, with a foundation in Western folklore as well as Chinese. So I wanted to write about -”

“The wartime crossdresser trope?” For the first time, Ansell didn't sound dismissive. “That… might actually work with one of my ideas.”

“Really?” Roman asked.

“Well, I thought we could look into the _actual_ best example of folklore reinterpretation in the modern world,” Ansell said, reluctantly. “Have you read much Discworld?”

“A couple,” Roman said. “Mostly the ones with the witches.”

“Oh, that figures.” Ansell laughed, but not unkindly. “Well, there's a whole book about women dressing as men to join the army. We could do, like, a compare and contrast kind of thing?”

Roman found himself nodding slowly. “Discworld is based on a lot of English folklore right? While Mulan is probably based more on the American tradition from the Civil War era. That could be an interesting thing to look into…”

“Yeah, there's going to be a lot of overlap with historical stuff too.” Ansell tipped his head to the side. “So, what did you have in mind for secondary sources?”

They talked over the best books to read. Ansell had a lot of opinions – most of them wrong, of course, but some of them were… interesting. Or at least, worth investigating.

“I think most of these are in the Bod or the faculty library,” Roman said, looking down the list. “I'm not sure about our primary texts, though.”

“I'd lend you a copy but… I don't actually have one.” Ansell gave a rueful smile. “I'm pretty sure the town library will have it in. I can read it tomorrow and get it to you on Monday?”

Roman blinked a little, registering that Ansell had just _offered_ to help him out. Judging from the faint look of horror dawning on his face, Ansell was realising that as well.

“That would be greatly appreciated,” Roman said quickly, before Ansell could take it back. “If you need a copy of Mulan -”

“Nah, I'll just pirate it.”

Roman gaped at him, indignantly. After a second or so, Ansell snorted with laughter.

“I'm kidding, Princey. I already have a copy. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Roman let his eyes grow wide.

“ _You_? Have a Disney film?”

“I never said I didn't like Disney!” Ansell huffed, and folded his arms. “I just don't think it's a suitable topic for a _folklore_ class.”

Roman chuckled, then awkwardly realised that they had run out of project-related discussion. Everything was arranged. Hesitantly, he got to his feet.

“So, we'll meet again at the library to write the presentation. When's good for you?”

Ansell gave him a look.

“You gonna be okay to get through this list by Tuesday?”

A part of Roman wanted to take that as an insult… but it did actually sound like a genuine question.

“I'm game if you are,” he replied. “Until our next meeting, then.”

“See ya around.” Ansell gave Roman a small salute as he walked out the door.

Roman found himself stood in the corridor, blinking.

Perhaps this wasn't as big a disaster as he'd thought.

 

**Monday 7th Week, 1pm (The Next Day)**

Logan walked into college, letting years of habit carry him past the Porter's Lodge and into the small door on the right. The pidge room was a cramped space of tall shelves and constantly-changing posters advertising various events around the university. Logan waited patiently for a woman to squeeze past him out of the room before walking over to his own mail slot and pulling out the handful of papers that had been left for him since the weekend.

It was mostly spam. He flipped through several pieces of advertising for assorted Societies, a reminder from the college about the proper storage of bicycles on the college grounds, and a leaflet about the college Christmas concert that he had been planning on attending anyway. He was about to throw the whole handful in the recycle bin by the door when a tiny scrap of paper fluttered out onto the floor.

Logan frowned. The note was hand-written, something which he hadn't received since he was living at college last year. Now that they shared a house, Patton left his habitual cheerful notes on the fridge instead.

He unfolded the scrap of paper. Inside was written a number – eleven digits, a mobile phone number – and a single letter.

V.

Logan blinked twice. Then he pulled out his phone, and opened a new text.

**Logan:** Salutations V. This is Logan.

Logan stared at his phone eagerly, waiting for a response. It was only when a group of three other students entered that he recalled he was still in public. He quickly slipped his phone into his pocket, and continued on his way, back out the front door of the college and onto the street. He could barely focus on where he was walking, and when he felt his phone vibrate, he ducked into a narrow side street to read the response.

**V:** Heard you were looking for me.

Logan could hear the words in V's low rumble as he read them. He began typing, although it took several attempts to compose a response that satisfied him.

**Logan:** You heard correctly. If it's amenable to you, I would like to see you again.

Logan couldn't keep still. He began tapping his fingers against his leg as he waited for a response.

**V:** Kinda swamped with deadlines right now. You around after the end of term? **Logan:** Yes. **V:** Text me Friday 8th Week? **Logan:** That is satisfactory.

Logan blinked as he looked back up at the world around him. He could hardly believe what had just happened. He had scheduled a time to talk to V, in less than two weeks.

It took him several seconds to remember what he had been doing before initiating this interaction. Ah, yes. He needed to visit the faculty building.

Logan continued on his way, fingers drumming on his leg the whole time.

 

**Wednesday 7th Week, 11am (Two Days Later)**

Patton laid in bed, staring up at the familiar, slightly out-of-focus shadows patterned across his ceiling.

He should get up. He had meant to get up, only – he hadn't, somehow. And now he was still in bed, and it was late, and he'd already missed his first lecture this morning. Well, that was okay. One of today's lectures had been optional, and the other had notes online. He could catch up. Only, he definitely needed to get some work done today before tomorrow's meeting with his supervisor. And he was meeting Gil later, which meant he needed to get out of bed _now_.

Patton sighed, and rolled over onto his side.

It wasn't like he didn't know that working was important. He'd get it done later! There was still plenty of time before he had to meet Gil, or he could work this evening. But right now, his bed was warm and comfy and with the blankets over his head he could block out the sunlight and pretend it was still night. Perhaps he should nap for a bit. Maybe when he woke up, he'd have the energy to start his day.

… Even inside Patton's head, that reasoning didn't sound convincing. No, he needed to get out of bed.

_List the good things that could happen to you today_. The words came familiar in his mind, worn into place by years of habit.

He'd already tried this a couple of times this morning. Normally, it wasn't hard to think of something worth getting out of bed for. Every day there was the chance that he'd find a penny on the ground, or smile at a baby on the bus, or see a dog he'd never seen before! But today, all of those possibilities seemed a long way away, and his bed was right _here_.

Time to think of something more powerful. But…

Patton normally motivated himself by remembering all the people he loved. And he loved a lot of people! Only – he'd been so busy lately with work that he hardly saw most of his friends. Even the ones he lived with – Roman was out so much at rehearsals that sometimes Patton went days without seeing him, and Logan -

Well. Thinking about Logan was no longer as uncomplicated as it had been a few months ago.

Perhaps he could call home later, try to talk to his sisters when they were done with school. But thinking about that just made him miss them even more than normal, and that made him want to curl up even smaller under the covers and never come out again.

No, something else. Gil – he was seeing Gil later. He'd promised. And maybe he hadn't known Gil as long as Roman or – or some people, but he still loved him just the same! He was a good kid, and he always seemed so stressed about things. Patton loved watching him relax as the two of them talked, loved startling a laugh out of him, loved the small, half-embarrassed smile Gil gave him sometimes when he thought Patton wasn't looking.

If Patton didn't get work done today, he would have to cancel meeting up with Gil last minute. Gil would be upset. He would think Patton didn't care about him, or that he wasn't important to Patton, because Patton was treating him so cruelly.

Patton could feel his thoughts turning in a dangerous direction. He knew he should stop there.

He didn't stop.

If Patton didn't get up and get some work done now, then Gil would be sad, and it would be _his_ _fault_. Because he would be the kind of person that couldn't get out of bed even when his friend's happiness was on the line. He would be a useless, pathetic lump of a man who sulked under the blankets until noon because he couldn't handle doing a few hours of research like an adult.

Patton didn't want to be that. Reluctantly, slowly, he sat up. Let his feet hit the floor. Stood.

His reflection in the mirror stared blankly back at him. The expression looked out of place on his face.

Patton took a deep breath, forcing himself to smile.

There. That was better.

 

**Wednesday 7th Week, 4pm (That Afternoon)**

“You doing okay, Pat?”

Patton started a little. He had been staring down at his hot chocolate for a couple of minutes, a vacant expression on his face. He looked exhausted.

But when he saw Virgil looking, he smiled.

“Yeah, I'm fine!” Patton said. “It's just been a long day. Lots of work to do before this meeting tomorrow.” His smile faltered a little. “Sorry I had to cancel our regular catch-up time! I know you're worried about your presentation tomorrow…”

“Actually…” Virgil rubbed at his neck. “It's not been… that bad? I thought the guy I was partnered with was going to be a dick about it, but we actually have a pretty good project.”

“Aw!” Patton put his face on his hands. “I'm glad you two worked things out.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. It's not like we're friends now or anything.”

“Oh! That reminds me!”

Patton sat upright suddenly. Virgil had no idea what he was talking about, but it wasn't unusual for ideas to strike Patton at odd moments.

“Are you coming to the college Christmas concert?”

Virgil raised his eyebrows.

“Is there any reason why I should be?”

“Because I'm asking you to?” Patton said, already giving Virgil a puppy-dog look. “One of my housemates is performing and I really, really want you to meet some of my friends. I think you'd all get along! Please?”

Virgil thought it over. On the one hand: new people. But, on the other hand: a concert was pretty much the least-social social event he was going to get. All he had to do was sit in the same room as these people, and then he could honestly tell Patton he'd given it a chance.

“Fine,” he said. “It's on Sunday, right?”

“Yay! You'll have fun, I promise. Meet you in the theatre lobby at seven-ish?”

“Sure thing,” Virgil agreed.

After all – what was the worst that could happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Negative self-talk, first-person description of anxiety and low mood.
> 
> I hope you all had a good time over the holidays!


	10. Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil attends a concert. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y'all are excited for this chapter... I wonder if it'll turn out like you expect. 😈
> 
> Content Warnings in the end notes.

**Thursday 7th Week, 4pm (The Next Day)**

“Thank you very much for that, Mr Ansell, Mr Prince. You took a very original approach to the topic and made some interesting arguments. Although do try to keep your points a little more focussed in future.”

Roman was almost buzzing with excitement as he returned to his seat. The presentation had gone so well! _Professor Wilder said his ideas were original!_ He grinned across at Joan as the next pairing made their way to the front, and they flashed a thumbs up back at him.

Roman tried his best to focus through the final presentation, but he was having trouble sitting still. As the class was dismissed, he leapt to his feet with a burst of energy, and was second out the door after Ansell.

As they met in the doorway, Roman gave Ansell a friendly pat on the back. He started a little at the contact, then rolled his eyes.

“What?” Ansell huffed.

“I wanted to thank you! Our presentation went fabulously, and I couldn't have done it without you.”

“Oh.” Ansell looked a little flustered – was that a faint blush on his cheeks? “Uh, sure. Thanks for doing your part too, I guess.”

“No problem!” Roman beamed at him. “Perhaps we'll have the chance to work together again sometime?”

Ansell shrugged. “I guess we'll see.”

Before Roman could respond, he shoved in a pair of earbuds and began walking away.

Ah, yes. Roman had almost forgotten that they didn't normally… talk to each other.

“What was all that about?” Joan asked as they came over.

“Oh, it's nothing…” Roman said, with an airy wave of the hand. “Only…”

“Only?”

“Was he always cute?”

Joan gave Roman a Look™.

“What?” Roman asked.

“You're hopeless,” Joan said. “ _One_ friendly conversation with a guy and you fall for him.”

“Excuse me?” Roman protested. “I have not _fallen_ for him. I'm simply observing that, objectively speaking, he's pretty darn cute, okay!”

Joan waited for a couple of seconds.

“Did I mention he has a lip piercing?” Roman added, unable to help himself.

Joan sighed heavily.

“Look, I'm not going to _do_ anything about it,” Roman said. “But… you know, maybe if _he_ asked, I wouldn't say _no_ …”

Joan rolled their eyes.

“You, my friend, are a gay disaster,” they said.

Roman huffed.

“Let's get to rehearsal,” he said. “At least Thomas will sympathise with me.”

“Disaster,” Joan mouthed again.

 

**Sunday 8th Week, 6pm (Three Days Later)**

Virgil looked himself up and down in the mirror, wondering if his outfit was okay. Jeans were fine, right? It was a concert, nothing super-formal. Jeans were always okay. His hoodie was perhaps less socially acceptable, fraying where he always picked at the cuffs, and the seams messily patched up where they'd torn a few months ago. But it was also the only jacket he had that was warm enough to walk home in, so he didn't really have a choice.

Should he take out his lip ring? He generally didn't wear it to college, because normally college meant class and class meant professors and professors really _didn't_ need another reason to disapprove of him. But this was a social occasion, and he needed to wear it in more or the piercing was going to heal over.

But did Patton's friends really need another reason to judge him? Maybe the lip ring and the make-up was too much. He could take off the make-up – but surprise, surprise, he hadn't slept great, and he was out of make-up wipes anyway. Eyebags smeared half-black was a whole different kind of terrible first impression. Maybe if he put more effort in – eyeliner, lipstick? But then it would look like he was trying too hard…

Was it too late to cancel? _Yes_ , he knew that. It had been too late to cancel from the moment he'd agreed to go. He owed Patton enough that he had to try.

It would be easier if he could leave, work off some of this energy by walking fast until his legs burned. But he couldn't do that. It was too soon to leave, and besides, what if he got sweaty and everyone sat near him at the concert could smell it? No, he needed to walk to college _slowly_ , which would also help with the whole not-getting-there-embarrassingly-early thing.

Of course, that meant he risked arriving embarrassingly _late_ instead.

Virgil scowled at his reflection, trying to see someone who Patton's friends would want around. It didn't work. No matter what he tried, he still looked like himself.

He checked his phone – still too early, but fuck it. He grabbed his keys and stormed out the door.

Time to do this thing.

 

Roman checked his hair one last time in the mirror of the 'green room' – which was, more accurately, a half-empty storage room with bags and sheet music strewn over tall stacks of chairs and upturned desks – and then headed out to the lobby. There was already a small crowd forming, and Roman knew most of them, either as friends-of-friends or through the university acting scene. Tonight's performance was just a little one-night concert that the students of St Thomas's had thrown together, so most of the audience would be friends of the performers.

He made a circuit of the room, greeting everyone he recognised, before spotting Patton and Logan hovering by the doors.

“Surely its best to remain in the agreed meeting location,” Logan was saying. “If your friend becomes lost, I'm certain he will contact you textually with news of his predicament.”

Patton must be fretting about this new friend he'd invited. Roman could barely keep track of Patton's busy social life, but this was the one who was shy and had Patton worried he didn't sleep enough, right?

“Roman!” Patton smiled as he noticed Roman's approach, but he didn't seem to realise that his phone was still clutched tight in his hand.

“Good evening, friends!” Roman beamed at them both. “Are you ready for a night of festive entertainment!”

“That is why we are attending, yes,” Logan said, with the barest ghost of a smile.

“Feeling nervous, kiddo?”

Roman gave Patton a half-shrug in response, trying to keep the smile steady on his face. Patton knew well enough that he was always stressed before a performance, even a relatively small one such as this. He was also well aware that talking about it would only make Roman feel worse.

“Aw, you'll do great!” Patton said, squeezing Roman in a side-hug. “I love hearing you sing!”

“You hear him sing literally every morning in the shower,” Logan pointed out.

“And I love it!”

“Thanks, Padre.” Roman's stomach stopped doing flips for a couple of seconds.

Then Patton's head turned suddenly. He rushed away, towards the figure that had just entered through the main doors, and collided in a full-body hug with -

 _Ansell_?

 

It took Virgil ten minutes of pacing the quad before he worked up the courage to enter the theatre. He stepped through the door, barely having time to take in the room before a blur of motion was headed towards him. Patton collided with him bodily, almost overbalancing the both of them as he wrapped his arms around Virgil's chest.

“Gil! You made it!” Patton said into Virgil's shoulder.

“Glad to see you too, Pat,” Virgil said, unable to keep the smile off his face. With Patton hugging him, it was hard to remember what he had been so anxious about.

Then Patton grabbed his hand.

“Come on, I want to introduce you to everyone!” He dragged Virgil towards a pair of men who were watching the scene bemusedly.

A pair of. Very. _F_ _amiliar_. Men.

“These are my housemates!” Patton said. “Logan and Roman!”

Virgil had to stop himself from saying 'I know,' because oh boy, did he know.

On the right: Roman Prince, royal pain in Virgil's side for the last seven weeks and yet somehow still the best partner he'd ever been stuck with on a group project. Roman was currently _gaping_ at Virgil, mouth literally hanging open, which Virgil thought only happened in cartoons.

And on the left: Logan. _That_ Logan. Who was… turning pale and avoiding eye contact.

 _Fuck_.

“You two know each other, right? I knew it!”

Virgil stopped staring at Logan in order to gape at Patton, horrified. But when he turned, he realised that it was Roman, not Logan, that Patton was gesturing to.

“We're in the same class,” Roman said, slowly. He was looking suspiciously from Patton to Virgil to Logan, like someone was about to jump out and yell “April Fools!”

“He's –” 'That asshole,' Virgil was about to say, but he cut himself off just in time. “We just did a presentation together.”

“Oh, I _thought_ you might be talking about each other!” Wait, Roman talked about him? “I hope the presentation went well on Thursday!”

“It did indeed!” Roman said. “An – I mean, uh, Gil proved himself to be an excellent partner.”

“You weren't too shabby yourself, Princey,” Virgil shot back automatically. It was easy to fall into a back-and-forth with Roman. Definitely easier than thinking about -

“And this is Logan Edison!”

Yeah, that.

Patton laid a hand on Logan's arm, beaming at him like he hung the moon. The two of them were clearly close. Virgil forced himself to look in Logan's direction to avoid appearing rude, but he couldn't quite bring himself to make eye contact.

“Logan, this is my friend Gil.”

“We, uh -” Logan's voice was about two octaves higher than the last time Virgil had heard it. He cleared his throat and tried again. “We've already met.”

“You have?” Patton was looking at Virgil for confirmation, and he had to say something, fast.

“Yeah,” he said non-committally. “It was at an LGBTQSoc thing.”

Roman made a faint 'huh' type noise at that, but Virgil ignored him. If he had a problem with Virgil's sexuality, he could fuck off.

“Yes,” Logan said quickly. “We had quite a stimulating conversation at a meeting near the start of term. It is… pleasant to see you again… Gil.”

Logan hesitated for a second, then added:

“I wish I had thought to ask for your number when we first met.”

Virgil could feel himself blushing. He really hoped that Patton wouldn't notice the heat burning on his face. But when he looked at his friend, Patton was smiling so hard that Virgil's cheeks hurt in sympathy.

“See, I knew you'd get along!” Patton bounced on the balls of his feet. “I can't believe you're friends with all three of us!”

“Me either,” Virgil said, at the same time as Roman. Neither sounded particularly enthused.

Virgil could feel the nerves beginning to bubble up inside him. This was too much. He needed to get out of here.

“Uh, concert's gonna start soon, right?” he blurted out.

“About fifteen minutes,” Roman said.

“Sure, nearly,” Virgil waved a hand. “I'm gonna run to the bathroom now so I don't miss anything. I'll be back in a mo, right Pat?”

“If the doors open, we'll save you a seat!” Patton called after him, but Virgil was already hurrying away.

Just five minutes, that was all he needed. Five minutes of quiet, and then he'd be able to breathe again.

Wouldn't he?

 

Roman's mind was spinning. He had to be imagining things, right? Only, Logan was acting weird – weird for _him_ – and Ansell – Gil, _really_? That wasn't what Roman had expected – Ansell had gone pale as a sheet when he saw Logan standing there.

They met at an LGBTQSoc. Early this term. Had an interesting… 'conversation.'

And Logan hadn't gotten his number.

 _Holy hippogriff_ _s_.

No, Roman couldn't be right about this. Because the guy Logan hooked up with – the guy who halfway broke Patton's heart without meaning to – could not possibly be _Ansell_.

Could he?

Roman mumbled something to Patton and Logan about wanting to read through his lyrics one last time, and made a beeline for the men's bathrooms.

The theatre was one of the few modern buildings in college, and the bathrooms were clean and well-lit. An- _Gil_ was nowhere to be seen, but there were a couple of other guys present. Roman didn't want to look like a creep, so he headed to the sinks and pretended to be fixing his hair.

One of the stalls was occupied. The door stayed closed for nearly five minutes. It reached the point where Roman was the only person in the room, and he was just debating calling out when the door opened.

Gil started when he saw Roman, then scowled.

“What are you doing here?”

Roman swallowed, hard.

“You and Logan, huh?”

 

Virgil felt his muscles lock into place, icy cold trickling down its spine.

“What about me and Logan?” he said, but his voice was shaking.

“It's true, isn't it?” Roman asked. “You were the guy on Halloween?”

Was there any point denying it? Probably not.

“What if I was?” Virgil demanded. “You have a problem with that?”

To Virgil's surprise, Roman sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then quickly fixed it in the mirror again.

“You are, despite my previous opinions on the matter, not actually a horrible person,” Roman said, matter-of-factly. “And Patton really likes you, which counts for something. So I'm going to assume you care about him too.”

“I –” Virgil paused. “Wait, what?”

Virgil could not follow this at all, but a cold, hard lump was congealing in his gut.

“Patton deserves to be happy,” Roman said simply.

“Fuck yeah he does. But what does that have to do with anything?”

Roman sighed again.

“I think,” he said, very slowly. “That it would be best. If you and Logan… didn't happen again. Because Patton… deserves to be happy.”

Oh no. Oh _nononono_ -

The way Patton had looked at Logan. The way Logan had gone pale at the sight of Virgil. And Logan had lied, of course he had lied, _Virgil had known he was lying to someone_ -

“I didn't know,” Virgil blurted, stupidly. Because of course he didn't. If he had known that Logan was dating _Patton_ , of all people, he never would have -

Never would have _fucked up this badly_.

This was karma. Virgil did something he knew was wrong, and now things would never be right again.

“It's okay,” Roman said softly. “You had no way of knowing. I'm not going to tell him it was you. But I thought I should let you know -”

“Yeah, no, you're right, I -” Virgil took a deep breath, both hands on the sink. He couldn't breathe _he couldn't breathe_ _ **he couldn't breathe**_ -

“Roman?” Someone stuck their head around the door. “There you are! Come on, its only five minutes til curtain, you need to get backstage.”

“Are you alright?” Roman asked Virgil.

He nodded quickly, motioning for Roman to go.

“Just – need a minute,” he gasped out, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to sound normal. He needed Roman to leave, needed everyone to leave, needed no-one to be looking at him -

The door closed behind Roman. Virgil slammed back into the stall, sat down on the toilet lid, and curled up into a shaking ball of self-loathing.

 

Patton shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing from the empty seat next to him to the theatre doors and back.

“Where is he?” he asked Logan again. “The show's about to start!”

Logan frowned and adjusted his glasses. His reassurances to Patton were seeming increasingly empty as V – or rather, Gil – failed to reappear.

“Perhaps he had to take a phone call?” he suggested. “I'm sure he'll be rejoining us soon. What reason would he have to leave?”

Although their encounter had been unexpected, and so awkward even Logan couldn't fail to be aware of it, surely the mere _sight_ of Logan wasn't so repugnant as to send Gil fleeing from the theatre…

Patton was half-out of his seat, craning around to scan the audience behind them for Gil's face. This room was half-theatre, half-lecture hall, with tiered seating which made it all too easy to see that Gil wasn't present at all.

Patton folded his arms.

“I'm going to look for him,” he declared. But before he could move, the audience lights dimmed, leaving only the spotlights onstage. The performance was about to start, and the only way out of the room meant walking directly in front of the stage.

Reluctantly, Patton lowered himself back into his seat as the music started. But all though the five-part a cappella rendition of 'Let It Snow', Patton's eyes were on the door, and Logan was having trouble focusing as well.

As the audience applauded for the first number, Patton ducked out of his seat and made his way to the door, ducking low in front of Thomas welcoming the audience to the performance.

“Good evening, guys, gals and non-binary pals! Thank you for joining us for our Christmas showcase concert tonight. Before we start, let me introduce you to some of the incredibly talented people who'll be up here on stage this evening…”

Patton was gone for all of Thomas's speech, and half of the next number. Logan saw him appear in the doorway halfway through Valerie and Terrence's performance of 'Last Christmas', although he waited until the end of the song to return to his seat.

“The bathroom is empty,” Patton whispered urgently in Logan's ear. “I tried calling him, but – he's just _gone_.”

Someone in the row behind shushed them as the music began playing for Roman and Thomas's duet of 'Baby It's Cold Outside'. Roman had been rehearsing this piece for weeks, and Logan had been excited to see it performed, but now -

Even though Roman's performance was incredibly impressive, Patton's words kept echoing in Logan's head.

“He's just _gone_.”

But where?

And _why_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: First-person descriptions of anxiety and panic attack, self-deprecation, embarrassment, mention of cheating, slight reference to homophobia.


	11. Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Gil doesn't respond, Patton takes matters into his own hands.

**Sunday 8th Week, 8pm**

**Patton:** gil? where are you? the concert's about to start! (Grinning Face With Smiling Eyes) **Patton:** the show started but you can still come in! **Patton:** where'd you get to? (Confused Face) **Patton:** its okay that you left, please just let me know you're okay! (Face With Cold Sweat)

**Monday 8th Week, 2pm**

**Roman:** Skipping lectures today, Brad Pitiful? **Roman:** Your disappearing act has got Patton climbing the walls. Hurry up and text him that you're fine already.

**Tuesday 8th Week, 4pm**

**Patton:** did i do something wrong kiddo? **Patton:** roman said you were at lectures today but you wouldn't talk to him (Pensive Face) **Patton:** please tell me what's going on

**Tuesday 8th Week, 11pm**

**Roman:** Look, I'm sorry if what I said upset you, okay? **Roman:** I thought you deserved to know. **Roman:** If you're mad at me that's one thing, but taking it out on Patton is a low move, even for you.

**Thursday 8th Week, 10am**

**Patton:** i'll be at the cafe today at our normal time. **Patton:** if you'd rather talk in person about whatever's bothering you, come find me. **Patton:** please?

**Thursday 8th Week, 7pm**

**Logan:** V – or rather, Gil, **Logan:** I apologise if this method of contact is unsuitable, but I feel the situation has made it necessary. **Logan:** I know our encounter was unexpected and less than pleasant. However, cutting all ties with my friends seems an extreme overreaction to the situation, and it has gone on long enough. **Logan:** Patton is deeply concerned about your well-being, and I fail to see the reasoning behind snubbing him further. **Logan:** Please contact one of us at your earliest convenience.

**Saturday 8th Week, 12pm (One Week After The Concert, The Day After End-of-Term)**

Virgil heaved himself up the stairs, every muscle aching with exhaustion. The building was blessedly quiet, the kind of hush that only fell upon the dorms after the move-out deadline for anyone who wasn't staying over the holidays. He was pretty sure the only other person on his floor for the next six weeks was going to be the Korean med student who he only seemed to encounter at 2am.

So… who was that sat outside his bedroom door?

“Gil!”

Patton leapt to his feet. He looked for a second as though he was about to hug Virgil, but then he stopped. That moment of hesitation was enough for the sick guilty feeling – which had finally ebbed away this morning as exhaustion took hold – to come flooding back to him.

“Are you okay?” Patton asked, voice full of concern that Virgil didn't deserve.

His legs were shaking. He unlocked the door and shoved it open, and Patton followed him inside.

“I was waiting for you,” Patton explained. “I made Roman tell me how to get to your room – when you didn't answer I thought you might be asleep, so I helped some people with their boxes, and then when you still didn't answer I thought you might be ignoring me so I was going to wait there until sooner or later you _had_ to come out -”

“It's good to see you, Pat.” And it was, in spite of how awful it felt at the same time. “I'm sorry I made you worry. I'm fine, really.”

“You don't look fine,” Patton said slowly. “Were you out all morning?”

“I had work,” Virgil said.

Patton's brow furrowed. “But term only just ended!”

“I started at Sainsburys on Thursday,” Virgil admitted. Students weren't meant to work in term time, but what could he do? “I gotta pay my vacation rent somehow, right?”

There was a moment of silence, and Virgil could almost hear what comes next. _What about your parents? Your family? Can't they help you pay? Can't they lend you the money?_

“What time did you wake up?”

Patton's words startled Virgil into a blink of surprise.

“My shift started at five,” he said, not adding that he'd been awake since more like three.

Patton made a tsking noise, and folded his arms.

“You are going to bed, mister,” he said firmly. “No arguments! We can… talk about things when you've got some sleep, okay?”

Virgil stumbled backwards, letting himself sag onto the bed.

“… Okay,” he said weakly. He didn't bother getting undressed, just kicked off his shoes and curled into the awkward half-ball that avoided the worst of the mattress's broken springs.

“I'll be here when you wake up,” Patton promised.

Virgil was asleep as soon as he shut his eyes.

 

Patton gently took Gil's keys off of the desk, and made his way back into the corridor. It didn't feel right to sit and wait in the same room where Gil was sleeping, and Patton didn't want to disturb his nap. He'd love to let his friend rest as long as he needed, but they really needed to talk today. He sent off a quick text to Logan, asking what the best length for a nap was, and went to investigate the floor's shared kitchen.

Patton had come today because he was worried about his friend. What he had seen so far gave him a whole new set of concerns to fuss over. Gil had looked dead on his feet, and he'd been stacking shelves since 5am? He must be exhausted. And the way he'd _looked_ at Patton… Patton had seen Gil anxious plenty of times, but this was the first time Gil had looked afraid of _him_.

Patton didn't know what was wrong or what to do about it. But he did know that talking about that took a back seat to _sleep_ and _food_.

Hence: kitchen.

The shared kitchen was… well, gee whiz, it was not in the nicest state! The only appliances were the stove, two mini-fridges and a microwave, and the stove was so old that the labels on the dials had peeled off. There were dirty pots and pans heaped over about half the length of worksurface, and the remainder was coated liberally in a mixture of flour, crumbs, and mysterious brown dried-on stains. The bin was full to overflowing, and the wall behind it had a damp, dark patch of mould growing on it.

Patton went to the fridges. One of them was entirely filled with eggs – at least thirty boxes, all of them weeks past expired – with the exception of the freezer box, which held about five beef hearts. Patton closed that one and made a note not to open it again.

The other fridge was more normal, if disappointingly empty. Still, there was half a dozen eggs – in date, this time – some milk and butter, and a half-open pack of cheese slices. Patton was initially hopeful of a pack of mushrooms, but on closer inspection they too were expired. He gave the freezer box a try, but it was frosted over so bad he was worried he might break something trying to get it open.

Patton bit his lip. This place was a mess. He couldn't imagine getting any kind of studying done while trying to feed himself out of this kitchen. How was Gil coping with all of this? Patton's stomach was churning, trying to think of something he could do to help.

But that would have to wait. For now, he dug around the cupboard under the sink until he found some cleaning supplies, and set to work.

 

Virgil blinked awake with a groan, trying to remember why he'd collapsed into bed without even turning the lights off. Then he registered the smell of fresh-cooked eggs, and the sound of the kettle starting to boil, and his eyes snapped open to see Patton stood by the desk, watching him.

“I made you an omelette,” he said with a smile, and that was about when Virgil remembered that he was the worst person ever born.

“… Thanks, Pat,” he said slowly, sitting up. “Listen, I -”

“Nuh-uh!” Patton said, holding up a hand. “Food and tea, then we can talk. 'Kay?”

Virgil sat at the desk, staring guiltily at the omelette while Patton busied himself making tea. He must have stolen the teabags from the kitchen cupboards, because Virgil only kept coffee in his room, next to the kettle he'd bought after his first one had been stolen out the kitchen. After a couple of pointed looks from Patton, Virgil forced down a few mouthfuls of food. It smelt incredible, but it felt like ash in his mouth.

“I'm sorry,” he blurted out as soon as Patton sat down.

Patton just sighed and handed him his tea.

“I'm sorry,” Virgil repeated. “I'm sorry I freaked out on you, and I'm sorry I ghosted you. But Patton I – I'm not a good person, okay? You don't deserve this. You shouldn't have to put up with me.”

“Gil…” Patton said – another lie, another secret, another knife in Virgil's chest. “You're not a bad person. You're just having a bad time.”

He didn't understand. Virgil needed to tell him. It would be so simple, just three words: _I fucked Logan_.

Tell the truth. Make Patton realise how much he should really hate 'Gil'. Tell Patton he'd been betrayed by two people he cared about.

Virgil's breath caught in his throat.

Three words.

“I… fucked up.”

He couldn't do it. He couldn't be the one to break Patton's heart. Maybe that made him even worse than he already was, but Virgil was too much of a coward to tell Patton to his face that he had ruined his life.

“It was just too much, with Roman there, and L– uh, your boyfriend – I didn't know what to say –”

“Boyfriend?” Patton blinked at him. “You mean Lo-Lo?”

“… uh. Yeah?”

“We aren't -” Patton shook his head. “I mean, Logan and I are… just friends.”

Virgil stared at him.

“I'm sorry too,” Patton said. “I thought it would be a nice surprise for you and Roman to realise we were all friends – I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I should have been more thoughtful. Can you forgive me?”

“Um. Sure.” Virgil said, because saying 'I'm going to murder Roman next time I see him' didn't seem like a socially acceptable response.

“Great!” Patton beamed. “Is it okay if I hug you now? I really missed you!”

“Yeah.” The word was barely out of Virgil's mouth before he had an armful of Patton pressed against him.

It took a few seconds more for the situation to sink in. He wasn't a homewrecker. He wasn't a monster. He didn't have to stay away from Patton forever. He could… keep doing this.

He had really missed Patton a lot, actually.

“So, uh…” Patton tilted his head to the side. “Do you want to try again?”

“Try what again?” Virgil asked, because he was pretty sure Patton didn't mean 'their entire friendship' despite his own desperate desire for a re-run.

“Meeting my friends?” Patton prompted. “No pressure! But I'm having a mini Christmas dinner, just for a few people, this Thursday, and I wouldn't make you talk to anyone, but if you want to come, I'd really love to have you there, so -”

“Patton,” Virgil said, holding up a hand. “Breathe.”

Patton took a deep breath, then smiled bashfully.

“So, what do you say?”

Virgil mulled over the idea. A big dinner with Patton and his friends, probably including both Roman and Logan? There were a million things that could go wrong.

But then he saw the hopeful look on Patton's face.

“I'd love to come,” Virgil said.

Patton beamed, and Virgil couldn't help but smile back.

 

Roman got up to put the kettle on when he heard Patton's key at the door. As Patton walked into the kitchen, he turned around with a carefully care-free smile.

“So,” he said. “How'd it go with Gloomy Gil?”

“He's alright,” Patton said, and Roman felt a tension he'd been carrying all week rush out of him. “He wouldn't really say what happened, but he's coming to the Christmas thing on Thursday.”

“I guess the celebration wouldn't be complete without our resident Ghost of Christmas Future!”

But when Roman turned around, Patton had his arms folded and his Serious Face on.

“He seemed to think that Logan and I were boyfriends,” Patton said slowly. “I wonder where he could have got that idea?”

Roman chuckled, but even to his own ears it was hardly an Oscar-worthy performance.

“Does that matter?” he asked. “You've never seemed to mind before when people made assumptions.”

Patton frowned.

“Logan doesn't like it,” he said, his words strangely clipped, “when people think things about him that… aren't true.”

Patton's voice sounded full of hurt, and Roman wanted desperately to hug his friend. But Patton was already turning away, arms folded over his chest.

“There's something else,” Patton said. “I'm worried about Gil. Even besides… whatever happened, he seems like he has a lot on his mind. And…”

“And…?”

As he turned back to Roman, Patton's eyes were bright with excitement.

“I have an idea,” he said.

“I thought you had to run those by Logan,” Roman said reflexively. Patton's ideas had a history of resulting in excitement, chaos, and, on at least one occasion, major property damage.

“I will,” Patton said with a wave of his hand. “But I need your help too.”

The look on Patton's face was eager, and painfully earnest. Roman knew, whatever it was, he was almost definitely going to agree to help.

… He was going to regret this, wasn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Negative self-talk, mentions of cheating and sexual activity, reference to unhygienic living situation (student kitchen), implied financial worries.


	12. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton throws a Christmas party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to say today!
> 
> 1\. Yes, this was originally meant to be out at Christmas. My writing schedule is wildly out of control at this point.
> 
> 2\. As some of you may know, I have a disability, and right now it's acting up. Unfortunately, this means you can expect delays in the next couple of chapters until I'm doing better. Fortunately, this chapter marks the final entry for the first term of the school year, so now seems like an appropriate place to take a brief break! Thanks so much for all your support so far, I can't believe this story already has more than 500 Kudos and comments!
> 
> 3\. If you want to hang out with me, hear updates about my writing process, or witness the many AUs I create while procrastinating, I now have a Discord! <https://discord.gg/YsEQWwa>
> 
> ETA: 4. **This chapter has been re-uploaded because I forgot to include something really important!** If you saw the previous version, please re-read the ending - you'll find some significant changes. Thank you for your patience.

**Thursday 9th Week, 7pm (Four Days Later)**

Virgil double-checked the address that Patton had texted him one last time before sliding his phone into his pocket. He looked up at the house in front of him – an unremarkable terraced building with a couple of potted plants outside the door. The lights in the front room were on, and he could hear music.

Virgil ran his fingers over the frayed cuffs of his hoodie, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

Patton answered the door, wearing a polka-dot apron, his round cheeks flushed pink. He beamed at Virgil and hugged him immediately.

“Come on in!” he said. “Everyone's in the living room – dinner's nearly ready!”

As Patton ducked back into the kitchen, Virgil kicked off his shoes into the shoe-mountain that filled half the hallway. He took a deep breath, then headed through to the living room.

It felt like a lot of people. It wasn't actually that many, but the small room made everything feel warmer and louder than it needed to be, with Wizzard playing over the speakers and everyone talking over the music. There were tortilla chips and guac on the coffee table, and a bright blue Christmas tree in the corner covered top-to-toe in tinsel, baubles, and fairy lights.

Every single chair in the room was occupied. There were even a couple of people on the floor already. Virgil cast around for a couple of seconds for a sittable surface, and then perched himself on top of the side table.

“Gil!” Roman smiled at him, his expression wilting somewhat when Virgil responded with a death glare. He might not be able to get away with murdering Roman in front of all these people, but he wasn't about to forget what Prince had put him through so easily.

“Hey! Gil?”

Thomas the Welfare Rep was sat on the sofa, squashed up next to Joan Stokes from class, with a small blue-haired person balancing across both of their knees. Thomas leaned around them to wave at Virgil, and for a second, Virgil's blood ran cold as he remembered: Thomas knew his _actual name_.

“You know Ansell?” Joan asked.

“Yeah, he's the guy I was telling you about,” Thomas said in a way-too-loud whisper.

“Oh you mean the one who -” Joan yelped, suddenly. It was hard to see, but Virgil was pretty sure Thomas had just elbowed them. “Who you said we should totally hang out with, and now we are, isn't that great!”

Well, that wasn't ominous at all.

Virgil didn't recognise anyone else in the room, except for knowing their faces around college. Logan was nowhere in sight, which was probably a good thing. He got introduced around to everyone, a round of names which he forgot almost instantly.

Introductions were just finishing up when the doorbell rang again.

“Hey all! Guess who brought bubbly?”

Virgil knew the man who entered – wearing sunglasses and brandishing a wine bottle in each hand – was one of the people who ran the LGBTQSoc, although he didn't know his name.

“Remy!” Several people greeted him, and Remy answered with a smirk. He put the bottles on the table, then looked around, eyes settling on Roman.

“You gonna offer me a seat, babe?” he asked.

Roman laughed, and spread his arms wide. “Come and get it.”

“If you insist.” Remy smirked, and draped himself sideways across Roman's lap in lieu of a chair, one hand around his neck for balance. Virgil rolled his eyes a little at the touchy-feeliness of it all.

Remy scanned his gaze around the room, and quickly noticed Virgil.

“Hey, dark and gloomy!” he called across the room. “I don't think we've met.”

“Gil,” Virgil introduced himself, giving a small salute.

“And you're... Logan's friend?”

Virgil felt his cheeks go hot. He had to be imagining the wicked look behind Remy's dark glasses. Right?

“Patton's, mostly,” he said quickly.

“And he's on my course,” Roman added with a warm smile that he had absolutely no right to. Virgil bit his lip to keep from snapping an insult at him, just to wipe that look off his face.

The conversation quickly moved on, splintering into two or three different discussions that Virgil could only half-hear. He tried not to look at Roman, focussing instead on the trio near him on the couch. The blue-haired person – Talyn – was pouting in exaggerated offence at something Joan had said, and had climbed into Thomas's lap instead, mountaineering halfway up the back cushion to get away.

A loud, familiar laugh pulled Virgil's attention back across the room. Roman was doubled up laughing, his head buried against the nape of Remy's neck. Heat flared inside Virgil, and he quickly looked away again. He tried to force himself to focus on something else, to let himself get lost in the warmth and the laughter and The Darkness singing through the speakers - “ _It's Christmas time, don't let the bells end_.”

The edge of anxiety kept humming at the back of Virgil's mind, not really easing until Patton came into the room. He did a full-on headcount, schoolteacher style, and gave Virgil a quick smile before turning to Roman.

“Food's almost ready, come lay the table!”

“I can help -” Thomas offered immediately, but Roman gestured for him to stay seated.

“It's my duty as a host,” he insisted. “Remy, if you don't mind?”

As Remy huffed and got to his feet, Patton's attention shifted to him.

“We're one short,” he said. “No Toby?”

“They caught a shift at work they couldn't get out of,” Remy says. “They send their love though.”

“Oh, that's too bad! I'll make sure to send you home with some leftovers for them.”

Virgil scoped out the situation. Roman's recently vacated armchair was empty. Remy hadn't yet thought to sit back down. And this table wasn't the most comfortable of seats.

He slid into the chair, just as Remy turned to sit back in it.

“Oh, come on!” Remy protested.

Virgil shrugged. “First to sit claims it. Am I right?”

Joan, Talyn and Thomas all made noises of approval.

“Well, fine,” Remy raised an eyebrow. “But I'm not giving up my seat.”

And that was how Virgil wound up with a lapful of Remy. The rest of the room whooped.

“You good?” Remy murmured.

“… Yeah,” Virgil said after a moment's thought. “Provided this isn't flirting.”

Remy laughed.

“I am happily partnered-up right now and not looking for anyone else.” He half-turned, enough to give Virgil a significant look. “Unlike our dashing hosts for the evening, in their tragic, desperate singledom.”

Virgil wasn't sure quite what Remy was trying to imply, but he knew he didn't like it.

“I will dump you on the floor,” he threatened.

“Try it and see what happens, babe,” Remy said with a dangerous grin.

 

Patton called them through for dinner a few minutes later. When Virgil walked in, he accidentally made eye contact with Logan for a second. Logan's expression didn't change at all – was he still pissed about the thing last week? – but he did freeze in the middle of putting a dish of cauliflower on the table. Virgil looked away quickly, and tried to ignore the feeling that Remy was eyeballing him.

They all crowded around two mismatched tables and an assortment of seats that included desk chairs, stools, and one beanbag. They all pulled crackers before anything got served. Virgil won a bottle opener in his, and was strictly informed by Patton that wearing the paper hat was non-optional.

The food was delicious. With Logan's help, Patton had made roast turkey, nut roast for the vegetarians and vegans, stuffing, roast potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, and at least five kinds of vegetables, including the traditional Brussels sprouts. The lights were low, the room was warm, and the conversation faded away into happy chewing noises, and Virgil felt something inside him uncoil more than it had in months.

After the first course, Virgil already felt full and sleepy, but he perked up when Patton mentioned the Christmas pudding. Before he went to get it though, Patton shot a look at Remy.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Remy blinked. He'd taken off his sunglasses while they were eating, instead hanging them from the collar of his T-shirt. To Virgil's surprise, in spite of his dark skin, Remy's eyes were a bright, pale blue.

“I'm good, girl,” Remy drawled, but he was toying with his shades with one hand.

“Better safe than sorry!” Patton said as he left.

Remy huffed, and put on the sunglasses again. Virgil was startled by the sight of his own reflection in the lens, and quickly reminded himself to stop staring.

“It's fine, you can be curious,” Remy said as he looked away. “My eyes don't do well with bright lights. I've got ocular albinism.”

“Okay.” Virgil didn't know quite what to say to that. “Uh. Neat.”

Remy's eyebrows rose.

“Please know that while I need these for the sake of my retinas right now, I am rolling my eyes at you.”

“I'm… sorry?”

“Babe, I'm gonna need at least a twenty percent reduction in awkwardness for this conversation.”

Virgil ducked his head.

“Oh hey, look, Patton's back!”

After they'd all had a slice of Christmas pudding and tried the gingerbread cookies that Thomas, Joan, and Talyn had brought with them, they returned to the living room and sat around talking late into the night, growing slowly more incoherent from the effects of sleepiness and Prosecco. Remy wound up draped across the sofa with his head in Patton's lap. Virgil sat on the floor, and tried to avoid eye contact with Logan across the room.

Around eleven, people slowly began to make their way out the door. Virgil went to stand up, but Patton put a hand on his arm.

“Stay?” he asked, urgently. “I want to give you your present after everyone's gone.”

Virgil flushed. “I didn't, uh – I could have gotten you something -”

“Oh, no! You weren't meant to! Well… you'll see.”

Patton beamed, then went to hug people goodbye as they left.

Finally, everyone was out the door, and Virgil turned to Patton expectantly.

“Come on!”

To his surprise, Patton grabbed him by the hand, leading him out to the hallway and through a door next to the living room. It had remained closed all evening – Virgil had assumed it was a cupboard or boiler room, but Patton opened the door onto a bedroom, clearly unlived in, empty of belongings and mattress left bare.

“Merry Christmas!” Patton said.

“Uhhh…” Virgil stared in confusion. “Is my present… in this room?”

“Your present is the room! If you want it.”

Patton handed over a shiny silver key, and Virgil's mind went blank.

“You…?”

“Your current place doesn't seem great,” Patton said, sounding somewhat apologetic in spite of his words being a massive understatement. “And we have this spare room cause our fourth roommate bailed on us, so I thought -”

“Well, okay, but like -” Virgil gritted his teeth. “I can't necessarily _afford_ -”

“Oh, that's the best part!” Patton said. “The rent here is really good!”

“How good?”

“Well, it would be cheaper split four ways, so if you moved in… ninety pounds?”

“A week?” That wasn't too bad. Maybe not as cheap as the subsidised rent he paid in term-time, but over the whole year it might come out to a saving -

“No, per month.”

The words brought Virgil's entire line of reasoning screeching to a halt.

“No way.”

“Patton's reckoning is approximately correct.” Logan was standing in the doorway. Roman too. Both of them were watching him. “To be precise, you would need to pay ninety two pounds and seventy pence every four weeks -”

“How?” Virgil demanded. “Is this a cult?” He reconsidered the situation for a moment. “Not that I'm saying no, necessarily…”

“The landlord is very generous,” Roman explained.

“Is that code for 'I have to let him perv on me'?”

Roman made an indignant squawking noise. Logan smirked, and even Patton seemed to be hiding a smile behind his hand. Virgil didn't really understand.

“Roman owns the house outright,” Logan explained. “No rent, no mortgage. We only pay for utilities.”

“Oh.” Virgil realised, belatedly, that he had just implied Roman was a creep… which, to be fair, he may have deserved. Speaking of which: “Wait. You're all okay with this?”

“You can consider it a joint offer from all three of us.”

Virgil nodded at Logan, but his eyes soon went to Roman.

“You sure, Princey?”

Roman huffed, and puffed up his chest dramatically.

“While we may be rivals, I strive to defeat you fairly upon the field of battle, not through some advantage of circumstance.” He smirked. “That means, when I kick your ass in finals, I want victory to be mine fair and square.”

Virgil wasn't sure he believed that, entirely. But he also wasn't sure he could afford to be picky. Rent that cheap would make a huge difference to his finances. He wouldn't need to worry so much about working two jobs every holiday just to keep afloat. That was… really tempting.

He looked down at the key in his hands.

“Can I… think about it?” he asked, slowly. “I mean, I already signed a contract at the college annexe, and I don't know what to do with all…”

He trailed off, making a broad hand gesture at the room.

Patton gave him a soft pat on the arm.

“Keep the key over the holidays,” he said. “You can come by whenever and get used to the idea. You can let us know when you've made a decision. There's no rush, Gil.”

Virgil bit his lip.

“I, uh. You should probably know that – look, I'm just going to come out and say it: my name's Virgil.”

Virgil grimaced as the room fell silent, and suddenly the words were flooding out of him.

“You misheard me the first time, and I was too awkward to correct you, and I thought, hey, it could be a nickname right? But it turns out it really doesn't work for me, so actually -”

“Virgil.” Patton said the name slowly, like he was mulling it over, and all the air went out of Virgil's lungs.

To Virgil's relief, Patton smiled.

“Of course, kiddo! Virgil-not-Gil it is!”

He glanced at Logan and Roman. No-one was laughing. No-one was demanding the key back. The world hadn't ended.

Virgil let himself breathe again.

“Sorry, I should have said something sooner.”

“Virgil Ansell.” Logan stepped forward suddenly, holding out a hand. “I'm Logan Edison. It's a pleasure to formally meet you.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but shook Logan's hand regardless. He might have been imagining it, but Logan's cheeks seemed to turn a little pink as he stepped away.

Roman moved forward too, but Virgil pulled his hand away. Roman threw up his arms indignantly.

“Don't I get to shake your hand, Virgil?”

“You not knowing my name was entirely your fault, Princey,” Virgil said, although he was biting back a laugh.

“Hff. With a name like Virgil, shouldn't you be doing Classics?”

“With a name like Roman, shouldn't you be?”

“Boys, boys!” Patton intervened, stepping between them. “No fighting on fake-Christmas! Besides, I'm sure Virgil should be heading home soon.”

With that word, it hit Virgil all over again. This could be his _home_ , if he wanted it to be. What could he say to that, except -

“Thank you for this,” he said, holding up the key. “All of you.”

He made eye contact with each of them in turn. Even Roman.

“No problem, kiddo!”

“You're welcome.”

Roman simply smiled at him.

“Merry Christmas, Emo Nightmare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes: Brief description of food, mention of alcohol, reference to anxiety and financial concerns, brief reference to bad living situations (cults and inappropriate landlords).
> 
> Also! The Remy/October in this chapter is a reference to a great fic called [Winter Winds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043125/chapters/40071443). Check it out!


	13. Intermission #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Virgil clear some things up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! My health situation is still a little rough, but it's improved significantly. Expect slow updates for the immediate future. Thanks a lot to everyone who expressed their support last chapter!

**December 21st, 3pm (Two Weeks Later)**

Virgil wasn't going to take them up on the offer.

He'd decided that the morning after the Christmas party, after several hours of agonising indecision. As nice as it was, it was ultimately a pity offer. They felt bad for him now. But if he tried to subject Patton, Logan and Roman to the realities of actually _living_ with him, they'd soon realise their mistake, and he'd wind up kicked out on the street with nowhere to go back to.

He was going to tell Patton after the holidays, thank him profusely and hand back the key that he'd never used. It was a foolproof plan.

Right up until the boiler broke down.

Virgil hadn't had hot water for two days, and the official college email this morning made it clear that there wasn't going to be any until after Christmas at the very earliest. The email had suggested that all residents remaining over the holidays could walk over to the neighbouring building whenever they needed a shower.

Because the showers in the annexe weren't bad enough without adding “walking between buildings in a bathrobe in barely-above-freezing weather” to the equation. That, or leaving his clothes outside the cubicles where any passer-by could steal them.

Which is when Virgil had realised the third, much more pleasant option available to him. He had access to a shower in a house with a functioning heating system _and_ privacy. And this close to Christmas, there wouldn't even be anyone there for him to bother, right?

So he'd loaded up his rucksack with towels and shampoo and a change of clothes, and walked out to Patton's house after his Sainsbury's shift.

He would be in and out quickly, head straight to the bathroom, resist the urge to look around and wonder what it would be like to live here, in a nice house that, the one time he'd seen it, had been full of laughter and friendship -

“Hello?”

The voice from upstairs startled Virgil, and he swore loudly. When Logan appeared at the top of the staircase, he resisted the urge to swear again.

They hadn't spoken since the night of the Christmas party. Virgil didn't know what to say. He figured he'd probably blown his shot, given how he'd behaved, so it was better to just forget whatever had happened between them and move on.

“Oh! Virgil.” Logan nodded. “I wasn't expecting you.”

“Sorry,” Virgil said instantly. “I didn't think anyone would still be here, or I wouldn't have come.”

Logan frowned. “There's no need for that. When we offered you the room, there was an implicit invitation to come at any time. To visit, or to stay.”

Virgil's breath caught in his throat.

“Yeah, well…” He shuffled uncomfortably. “My shower is broken. Is it okay if I use yours?”

“Of course. The facilities are at your disposal. But -” Logan hesitated. “When you're done, I would like to have a conversation. If you'll allow it.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Logan nods smartly, and disappears, presumably back to his room.

 

That preamble doesn't exactly result in the most relaxing shower of all time. Although it doesn't escape Virgil that it feels nice – to have a bathroom with a real lock on the door, instead of a cubicle with a rusty latch. To have a shower without weird black mildew on the ceiling or thick grime around the plughole. To step out onto a warm, dry bathmat instead of hurrying back down a draughty corridor to his room.

It felt like having a _house_. Virgil tried not to notice how much he'd missed that.

After getting his clothes back on, Virgil took a couple of minutes to calm himself down in front of the bathroom mirror. He had nothing with Logan worth mentioning, and he wasn't going to take the room. He didn't have anything to _lose_ here, so there was nothing to be afraid of.

Right?

Logan's door had a white-board on the door with his name written on it. Both Patton and Roman had left him notes wishing him a Merry Christmas, talking about missing him over the holidays. It made Virgil pause, smiling just a little before he schooled his expression and knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

Logan's room was ten times as organised as Virgil had ever been – every item carefully in place, nothing left on the floor or scattered on the desk. The bed was even made – what kind of student did that? Everything here was as prim and proper as Logan himself, sat bolt upright in his swivel chair.

Logan turned and looked at Virgil. He didn't smile, exactly, but his expression seemed fond. That was a good sign, right?

“I wanted to give you some information,” Logan said, handing him a sheaf of papers. “While I know you are still considering our offer, I thought that the college's policies regarding cancelling a lease might be useful for you to know. The sooner you can notify them of the change in circumstances, the smaller the chance you will remain liable for your current rent into next term. I've included a copy of our current renter's agreement as well, for you to peruse…”

Virgil blinked at him.

“Uh, okay. Is that… all you wanted to talk about?”

“You implied that you were experiencing some financial troubles as well. While I don't have the details to hand, there are several financial aid programs you might qualify for -”

“Logan,” Virgil interrupted. Logan's mouth snapped shut as though Virgil had electrocuted him. “Don't get me wrong, all this is great, but… you didn't have to do any of this.”

 _We aren't friends_ , Virgil didn't say. Perhaps, if he didn't say it, it somehow wouldn't be true.

“I wanted to,” Logan replied. “Our acquaintance so far may have been… unorthodox… but I wanted to make it clear that I do not hold negative feelings towards you. That I would welcome your addition to this household.”

Virgil half-smiled, ducking his head.

“You could have just _said_ ,” he said, softly. “And… I'm sorry. For making a mess of things. I'm sorry I didn't text you back.”

“Well, we agreed to talk during the vac,” Logan said, levelly. “And here we are. Talking.”

“So… what was it you wanted to say?”

Logan stood, suddenly, and took a step forward, close enough that Virgil needed to look up to meet his gaze.

“V, I…” Logan took a slow breath. “Virgil. I enjoyed our previous encounters… a great deal. And if you were amenable, I would be interested in repeating them – or at least, similar activities.”

“You want to hook up with me?” Virgil could hardly believe what he was saying, but the faint flush on Logan's cheeks confirmed it. “Even after… everything?”

“I admit, I am somewhat hesitant to continue without understanding why you left so abruptly after our previous meetings.”

Virgil bit his lip.

“I… misunderstood some things.” He hesitated. “You and Patton really _aren't_ dating, right?”

Logan laughed, a little bitterly.

“Ah. That rumour, though persistent, is entirely fabricated. I take it someone informed you we were?”

“Multiple someones,” Virgil said, bitterness creeping into his voice too. “I only half-believed it at first, but I didn't know if I could trust you to tell the truth if you were… creeping around behind someone's back. And then at the concert – you and Patton just… looked couple-y, I guess. And I thought…”

“That must have been quite alarming,” Logan said. “I apologise if my body language misled you. I won't hide the fact that I am attracted to Patton, but I have endeavoured not to let those feelings interfere with our friendship.”

Virgil hesitated. “So, you never wanted to… you know, get together with him?”

“You misunderstand me.” Logan sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Patton is entirely aware of my romantic interest in him, and has been for some time. He stated a preference not to pursue a relationship in that direction, and I will respect his wishes until such a time as he communicates otherwise.”

“Oh.”

 _That_ took Virgil by surprise for a moment. Whenever Patton looked at Logan, you could almost see the heart-eyes. But platonic love was a thing too, right? Relationships came in many shapes and sizes.

Speaking of which…

“Uh, you should know that I… don't really do relationships. If we want to make this happen, I'm not going to date you. It's just sex.”

Logan nodded sharply.

“I believe the term 'friends with benefits' most closely fits what I was proposing,” he explained.

“And you're cool if I hook up with other people? Cause I don't really do monogamy, either.”

“I would have no expectations, beyond you taking reasonable safety precautions. I assume that this goes both ways? You would not object if I later acquired another partner?”

“No, no, that's fine with me.”

Virgil was having a somewhat out-of-body experience. Was this happening? This seemed to actually be happening.

He sat on the bed next to Logan, only a few inches of space in between them.

“There are some important pieces of information you should know, before we progress any further,” Logan said, tapping his finger against his leg. “Not that they – are particularly relevant, only, full disclosure -”

“It's fine,” Virgil said, and Logan took a slow breath. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I experience autism.”

Virgil tipped his head to the side. “Okay. I don't see how that might be relevant, though.”

Logan smiled briefly.

“I don't always express my emotions in a typical way. If I am distressed, my body language might not show this in the way you expect. And you should know I don't like to be physically touched without asking. During sexual activities, I'll be expecting it, but in a social situation…”

“Gotcha,” Virgil said with a nod. “I'm not a big fan of surprise touching either. Is that everything?”

Logan took a deep breath.

“I don't want you to attach more emotional significance to this than it merits,” he said, talking fast. “I am notifying you purely as a matter of practicality, as it relates to life experience, and not because this fact holds any weight to me on a personal level -”

“Well, this is sounding ominous.”

“I am, technically speaking, a virgin.”

Virgil's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“As in… all of it?”

“Well,” Logan said, “I did get a handjob from a stunningly handsome man in a library a few months ago. But that was my first, and so far only, sexual encounter.”

“Okay.” Virgil took a long breath, taking in that fact. It was a surprise, but again, not exactly a problem. “Okay. So…”

He grinned wickedly.

“You want to change that?”

Logan's eyes went wide. Then he leant over and kissed Virgil, slowly at first, but with a growing fire, until they were both breathless.

“What did you have in mind?”

Virgil smirked, and slowly pressed Logan back until they were lying flat against the bed.

“I have a few ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: mention of unhygienic living situations (student bathrooms), financial worries, mention of sexual activities.


	14. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Patton return home from their Christmas vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Hilary (Spring) Term of No Starting Over! I'm hoping to be back to more regular updates now, although they won't be as regular as they once were, given that the number of AUs I have has grown significantly since I first started this fic!
> 
> As always, Content Warnings in the end notes but please be warned: this chapter includes sexual content from the beginning. If you want to skip it, search for "situational knowledge".

**December 28th, 1pm (One Week Later)**

“Just a moment.”

With a grunt, Logan pulled out of Virgil, holding the condom in place with one hand as he backed up the bed. Covered in a fine sheen of sweat, lip bitten between his teeth, Virgil continued to stroke his hand over his cock, frustratingly close to the point of release.

A couple of moments later, Logan climbed back onto the bed, condom disposed of. He lay against Virgil's side, pressing the length of his body against Virgil's.

“Would you like me to take over?”

“No, I've got it,” Virgil hissed in reply.

“Okay.”

Logan watched him, grey eyes intent and unblinking. Then he leaned down, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss against Virgil's collarbone, while his other hand reached down to Virgil's legs. He scraped his nails slowly up the inside of Virgil's thigh, right up towards the groin, then gently stroked his fingertips over Virgil's balls –

Virgil's orgasm hit much faster than he was expecting. Logan sucked a hickey into his neck through it, and only moved his hand to rest on Virgil's thigh when Virgil swatted him away. Virgil pulled him in for a proper kiss then, slow and lazy and sated.

“That was nice,” Virgil commented. “Pass me some tissues?”

Logan did so, and Virgil sighed as he began cleaning the sticky mess off his abdomen and hands.

“I'm merely applying the situational knowledge I have acquired.” Logan smirked. “I've had a good teacher.”

“You're a good student.” Virgil replied. “Oh, and congrats.”

Logan frowned.

“Don't –”

“You're no longer a _vir_ _–_ ”

“ _Please_.” Logan rolled his eyes. “I would be gratified if I never hear that antiquated term again, particularly not from you.”

“I'm done,” Virgil promised. “Well, _mostly_ –”

Logan interrupted by kissing him again, which turned into two kisses, then five, until they were making out again, bodies pressing towards each other. It was only when Logan cupped his hand over Virgil's ass that Virgil gently pushed him away.

“Again? Already?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You can't be serious.”

“We only have limited time before the others return –”

“No!” Virgil protested, rolling off the bed. “Stop, I need to shower. You have no idea how weird it feels to have lube drying in your ass.”

“And with that attitude, I will remain ignorant,” Logan commented.

Virgil snorted with laughter, only to freeze suddenly at a sound from the hall. He and Logan looked at each other –

“Greetings, my friends!” A familiar voice called from the hall. “I have returned. Is anyone home?”

 _You said he wouldn't be back til tomorrow_ , Virgil mouthed, frantically grabbing their clothes off the floor. Logan could only shrug in response, and begin pulling his shirt back on.

They'd both agreed not to tell their other two housemates about this… arrangement between them. But even if they'd wanted Roman to know, this was hardly the best way to introduce the subject.

“Is that you in there, A– I mean, Virgil?”

“Uh, gimme a minute!” Virgil called back.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured quickly to Logan. “I'll get him upstairs, you get dressed and make like you're coming in the front door. Good?”

He waited only long enough to see Logan nod before pulling his hoodie over his head and heading into the hallway.

“There you are!” Roman greeted him with a smile, two enormous suitcases filling the hall. “I didn't know whether to expect you back already. Where's the nerd?”

“He went out this morning,” Virgil shrugged. “Library, I think? He should be back soon-ish.”

Roman looked Virgil up and down, and Virgil couldn't help but glance down, trying to find the cause of the judgemental look. It didn't take much finding.

His hoodie was on backwards.

“And you were…?” Roman asked, in a teasing voice.

“ _Not_ expecting you back a day early,” Virgil snapped back at him. “I was about to head into the shower, okay?”

“ _Please_ tell me you're not the kind of roommate who wanders around the house naked.”

“No-one was _here_!”

Virgil began making his way up the stairs, perhaps a little more forcefully than was needed, but Roman called out after him. He paused halfway up the staircase, turning back.

“So… you've moved in?” Roman asked.

To Virgil's surprise, he actually looked a little nervous about asking.

“Yeah, I – I think so.” Virgil shrugged. “I still gotta figure some stuff out with my old place, but Logan's been helping me with the contract…”

“That's good.” Roman smiled at him, surprisingly genuine. “It's nice to have you here.”

“Yeah, well… Thanks for having me, I guess.”

Virgil shot him a salute, and continued up the staircase, trying to ignore how hot his cheeks suddenly felt.

 

Overall, Roman's grand return to Oxford had been… less than grand.

Logan had arrived home a few minutes after Roman did, looking uncharacteristically dishevelled. Apparently their resident genius dumbass had decided it was a great day to attempt jogging home from the library without even changing out of his shirt and tie first. Roman had decided to graciously excuse him from a “welcome back” hug until he had taken his turn in the shower.

As for Virgil…

Roman had heard that absence made the heart grow fonder, but he hadn't understood how true it was until the last couple of weeks. In the time since he had last seen the perpetually-dour emo, he had been unable to get Virgil out of his mind. His imagination had been running away with him, crafting a thousand possible situations in which the two of them realised that their rivalry had all along been leading to a glorious romance!

The return of reality was somewhat bittersweet. Bitter, because the Virgil of Roman's imagination was rather less curt and snappish than the reality. But sweet because… he was actually _there_ , in the (incredibly gorgeous) flesh!

… Roman was too gay for this. Why had he let Patton talk him into inviting Virgil to live with them? His heart had already faltered at the sight of the strip of bare skin where Virgil's hoodie had ridden up; if Roman ever saw him _actually_ walking around the house naked, he was going to drop dead on the spot.

Roman was just reflecting on this point when, Virgil strolled into the kitchen. His brown hair was still damp from the shower, dripping dark blotches onto his faded-black hoodie.

Roman's breath caught in his throat.

“Hey,” Virgil said. Then, a moment later: “Isn't that the jam that has a note on it reading 'Logan's jam, do not touch, this means you Roman'?”

“That's just an old joke between housemates!” Roman insisted with an only-slightly-nervous laugh.

Virgil shrugged.

“None of my business, I guess.”

Roman got to his feet, going to put the jam back in the cupboard – not because he felt guilty, of course not! He wasn't guilty, and he wasn't at all concerned that Virgil and Logan had apparently been hanging out alone together while he had been away – and if he was, it would only be on Patton's behalf –

“So,” Roman said, because sometimes he just couldn't help himself. “You and Logan have been getting on pretty well, huh?”

He had known it was a bad idea. He had _known_ he shouldn't say anything, that it wasn't really his business.

But he hadn't expected Virgil to whirl around, glaring at him with raw fury.

“I _beg_ your pardon?”

Virgil took a couple of steps towards him, and Roman threw his hands up, backing up until he hit the wall. He probably shouldn't have been intimidated – Virgil was half a head shorter than him, and considerably less muscular – but it was hard not to be shocked by how quickly Virgil had gone from friendly to furious.

He also shouldn't have found it attractive. _Nope, not at all._

“ _You_ ,” Virgil said, in a low voice, “do not get to speak to me about Logan. Ever again.”

“L-Look…”

“No, _you_ look. You made me think that Logan was cheating on Patton with me! Do you have any idea how fucked up I was by that?”

“I didn't _say_ that!”

Roman bit his lip. He _hadn't_ said that, had he?

“You came pretty fucking close!” Virgil hissed.

“It was a misunderstanding!” Roman shot back. “I didn't… I was just trying to look out for Patton and Logan!”

“Uh-huh?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “So Patton would be happy if I told him what you said? _Logan_ would be happy?”

Roman felt the blood drain from his face at the thought of Logan finding out. Logan did _not_ like people interfering with his personal business. Compared with the tongue-lashing  he'd give out, Virgil was letting Roman off easy.

“You're so full of it,” Virgil continued. “You know what I think? I think it wasn't about Patton at all. I think you were _jealous_.”

Roman's heart pounded in his chest. Of all the times he'd envisioned this conversation –

“I –”

“You know what? I don't want to hear it,” Virgil snapped. “If you've got a thing for Logan, that's between him and you. But don't ever drag me or Patton into it again, _understand_?”

Virgil accented his words with a gentle shove against Roman's chest. Roman blinked at him a couple of times.

“… Yes?”

Virgil snorted.

“Keep out of other people's relationships,” he said, “and we might just make it through the year without killing each other.”

Roman nodded, and Virgil turned and stormed out of the room without a backwards glance.

Roman was dumbstruck.

_He thought…_

What a ridiculous suggestion! Yes, alright, Roman could see that Logan was attractive. Tall, raven-black hair, and talk about cheekbones that could cut glass… But that didn't mean Roman was interested in him! No, the nerd was not at _all_ Roman's type.

Still, Virgil had picked up on something there. He'd come perilously close to realising what Roman should have seen from the start: that he was letting his own hidden feelings for the broody goth interfere with how he handled the situation.

Well, no longer! Roman was all too aware of his feelings now, and he would certainly keep them in mind moving forwards!

All he needed now was a grand plan…

 

**December 30th, 11am (Two Days Later)**

“Heya, Logan!”

Patton walked through the living room door with a smile, which only grew wider as Logan registered his presence, blinked twice, and wordlessly rose, holding his arms out for the hug that he knew Patton would want.

“Aw, I missed you so much!”

Patton wrapped his arms around Logan's chest, squeezing tight.

“Welcome back, Patton,” Logan murmured down at him. Things were always strange when Patton was absent; now that he had returned, Logan felt… more at ease, in a way that he struggled to describe, even to himself.

When they separated, Virgil was stood at the door. He greeted Patton with a salute, and a small smile.

“You want a hug too, kiddo?”

Virgil looked surprised by the offer.

“… Sure?”

Patton, as always, responded enthusiastically at the chance to display physical affection. Virgil flushed a little, his eyes darting to Logan before he relaxed into the embrace. Logan hoped that Virgil understood he wouldn't judge him for showing vulnerability; after all, they had seen each other in far more vulnerable situations at this point.

Regrettably, Patton's return was going to make finding private time for their liaisons that extra bit more difficult. Roman's return had already led to a significant cut-back in the frequency and duration of their sexual contact, although Logan had hoped that once term began again, their housemates' increasingly busy timetables would allow greater time for him and Virgil to further explore the experience of partnered sexual contact.

The sound of footsteps thudded on the staircase.

“Is that Patton I hear?”

Roman swept into the room and swept Patton up into an immediate bear-hug.

“Bienvenido, padre!” Roman said loudly. “Did you have a good vacation?”

“It was so great seeing all my sisters – Bee is growing so fast, you wouldn't believe it! We all went ice-skating in York for my birthday and she was skating circles around me and Jess.”

Logan nodded along with the conversation, although he couldn't really relate to Patton's gushing enthusiasm for his own family. Logan had curtailed his own visit home as much as he was able to. He loved his parents and his brother, of course – he just found that it was far easier to get on with them from some distance away.

“Did you have a good time in Scotland, Virgil?” Patton asked, eagerly.

“Scotland?” Logan commented, confused.

“Yeah, I mean… I assume your family still live there? You clearly grew up there!”

“The accent is kind of a giveaway, right?” Virgil shrugged. Logan blinked in surprise. He had never been very good with accents, and hadn't realised that Virgil even _had_ one. “But nah, I didn't visit home. I… haven't been back in a while.”

“Oh.” Even Logan wasn't immune to the tension in the air after that statement – but if there was a story there, Virgil shouldn't feel pressured into sharing it before he was ready.

“How are your parents, Roman?” Logan asked, pointedly.

“Good, good! Although I wound up coming home a day early after Mama got called into the studio for some 'Breaking News' emergency. Papa was already busy with filming, so…”

Roman trailed off as he noticed Virgil's head had snapped up.

“Yes?” he asked, only a little sharply.

“You're… Prince…”

Logan suspected that he knew what was coming, and Roman wouldn't appreciate it. Roman _hated_ people fawning over his father to him; he said he never knew what they expected him to say.

Roman started to sigh, just as Virgil said:

“Is your mum _Gabriela Prince_? The investigative reporter?”

Roman hesitated, taken by surprise.

“Yes. She is.”

“She's – Gabriela Prince is my _idol_. That piece she wrote about going undercover to investigate police corruption last year – wow! I mean, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her, it was her series on the human impact of benefits reforms that first made me want to become a journalist!” Virgil froze suddenly, as though he'd just started listening to himself. “Uh, I mean. I just think she's pretty cool?”

“She absolutely is!” Roman agreed with a smile. “I'll pass on your compliments to her. She doesn't get recognised nearly enough, if you ask me! Normally, everyone wants to talk about my father…”

“Oh, right, he's… some actor, right?” Virgil said, vaguely.

Roman made offended noises.

“He's on _Eastenders_!”

“So… an actor? Like I _said_?”

“There's more to it than that!”

Across the room, Patton caught Logan's eye and smiled fondly. Even after only a couple of days, it was clear that Roman and Virgil bickering was going to be the house's new normal.

“Do you need a hand with your bags, Patton?” Logan asked, suddenly fighting to keep from laughing at the argument before him.

“Yes, please!” Patton replied. “I'll… come and put the kettle on, shall I?”

As soon as they were in the hall, both of them cracked up. Patton was doubled over with silent giggles, while Logan slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from making noise.

“Oh,” Patton said softly, wiping at his eyes. “You know what?”

“What?”

“It's good to be home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Explicit sexual activity, arguing that includes slight physical contact, keeping secrets, implied lying/making excuses, reference to stealing food, reference to jealousy, implied negative relationships with family.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
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>   * Reader-reader interaction
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